


The Sentence

by Sadmuse (Aleigh75)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Forced Marriage, HP: EWE, Mental Health Issues, Pregnancy, Redeemed Draco, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 85,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleigh75/pseuds/Sadmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is found guilty and sentenced to be executed for Dumbledore's murder, despite the fact that he didn't kill him, and new information comes forward about why he did the things he did. How far will Hermione's goody-goody tendencies make her go to help one of her worst enemies? Especially when he doesn't initially want her help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bug that got in my head and wouldn't go away.
> 
> 7/22/15 - For those who have been reading all along, I just finished going through everything to iron out some kinks now that I've finally finished writing the story. I didn't change a whole lot, but man there were a lot of annoying little issues! I made notes on individual chapters anywhere that I made a significant change. I could probably keep fiddling with things indefinitely, but I'm going to make myself stop. lol

_August 3, 1998_

Shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench that her arse seemed to be in the process of permanently merging with, Hermione Granger surreptitiously checked her watch for what seemed like the thousandth time. "What's taking so long?" she muttered irritably, "They can't honestly be having this much trouble agreeing that the git is innocent...everyone knows his father and Voldemort made him do everything."

She, Harry and Ron had been waiting for almost an hour now for the Wizengamot to come back with their verdict in the trial of Draco Malfoy; specifically, his culpability in the murder of Albus Dumbledore, the subsequent accidental cursing of Katie Bell and the poisoning of Ron. He was also accused of being a Death Eater, although it had been revealed that he did not actually carry the Dark Mark and his parents both testified that he had never taken the oath.

The trio had all attended the trial (despite the bad blood between themselves and the accused) because Harry insisted on testifying as to what he had witnessed in the Astronomy Tower the night Severus Snape had killed the ailing Headmaster. He had, of course, turned over Snape's astonishingly revealing memories on the subject. Hermione and Ron had both testified as character witnesses; Ron not so helpfully admitting that Draco had never meant to poison him, as the brandy had been intended for Dumbledore. Hermione had explained how, despite all the times they had fought in the past (her slapping him during their third year for example) Draco had tried to stop Vincent Crabbe from trying to kill them all in the Room of Requirement.

There wasn't much else of a positive nature that they could think of to say on his behalf. He was, undeniably, an arse. However, none of them felt that he deserved to go to Azkaban for the part his father had forced him to play in the war.

"Maybe they found him guilty and they're just trying to decide how light a slap on the wrist they should give him?" Ron suggested from his place on Hermione's right, rolling his eyes, "This whole thing is ridiculous. The only thing they could find him guilty of doing intentionally is letting Death Eaters into the castle that night, and even that he only did because You-Know-Who was gonna kill his mum."

"I don't know guys," Harry murmured, sounding worried. "The poison and the cursed necklace did hurt people...would maybe even have hurt Dumbledore. And I don't think a lot of people believed me that he had lowered his wand when the Death Eaters came into the tower. Even with Snape's memories...that one expert said that it is possible for memories to be faked. Remember Slughorn's memory about that conversation he had with Voldemort about horcruxes?"

"Harry, you know as well as I do that it takes a great deal of effort and concentration to try to manipulate an extracted memory," Hermione snorted, "Snape was near death. He didn't have the strength to fake anything like that."

"You're right," Harry nodded, but he still looked anxious. "What's taking them so long then?"

Hermione glanced at her watch for the one thousand and first time. It had now been an hour and two minutes. "Maybe they decided to have lunch before they come back? It is nearly noon..."

"They could have bloody well announced that so we could all go eat, too," Ron muttered. "This whole thing is a joke anyway. The real trials are over with...why are they even bothering with this?"

"I'm sure it's just a formality. If they didn't try him, people might say they weren't being thorough," Hermione shrugged, secretly agreeing with Ron.

Lucius Malfoy had already been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss for his part as Voldemort's "right hand man." Draco's mother, Narcissa, had been found guilty of being a Death Eater but her sentence was only a very small fine. The Wizengamot's leniency toward her was entirely due to her actions during the battle. No matter what her motives had been, she had saved Harry's life by lying to Voldemort's face, an act that could very easily have cost the witch her life. The deliberations for their son's trial were taking longer than both of his parents' trials combined, much to the surprise of the Golden Trio and most of the other witches and wizards present in the hot, crowded courtroom.

Hermione glanced over at Narcissa, who was sitting a short distance away from the three, one row in front of them and a few feet to their left. The older witch glanced at her own watch, and then returned to gnawing on her badly abused fingernails. She had entered the courtroom with a perfect manicure, but over the last hour Hermione had cringed as she watched her bite off one perfect nail after another. If this lasted any longer the woman's fingers would be bleeding. If not for the fact that the woman had been present while her sister viciously tortured Hermione, in Narcissa's home, no less, Hermione might even have felt sorry for her.

BANG! Everyone jumped as the door to the deliberation room suddenly opened with a loud crash. The members of the Wizengamot slowly filed in and returned to their seats. "Bring in the accused," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was temporarily acting as Minister of Magic. He sounded bored.

A pair of Aurors disappeared through a side door through which Draco had been lead out when the group had convened earlier. Moments later, they lead the rather haggard looking blond wizard back into the courtroom. He shuffled along under the weight of what looked like a hundred pounds of thick, iron chains.

Hermione rolled her eyes internally when he refused to lower his head as most people probably would in his situation. Instead, he looked out over the observers, his chin up. He even briefly met Hermione's gaze, though he quickly moved on to nod slightly at Harry in a surprising show of gratitude.

"He really looks awful," Ron mumbled under his breath. "Do they even feed them in Azkaban?"

"It's not Club Med," Hermione snapped quietly, rolling her eyes. Secretly, she had to admit that Draco's appearance was shocking.

In the three months he had been awaiting trial, he seemed to have lost a good twenty pounds. Twenty pounds that he hadn't needed to lose. The thin, shabby, gray robes he was wearing did nothing to hide that fact that he seemed to have lost a great deal of muscle mass in his shoulders and upper arms. His hair had grown from the carefully styled fringe he'd sported back in May into a shaggy mess that almost completely covered his eyes, forcing him to keep blowing it out of his face. Despite the hair obscuring the top half of his face, she could tell there were deep dark circles under his eyes; and his normally pronounced cheekbones were now so void of flesh that he looked almost skeletal.

When he finally turned to face the Wizengamot, she sighed in relief. Somehow, it was almost painful to see her former enemy (she supposed their animosity was now probably a thing of the past given that she and her friends had testified for him) looking so painfully thin and worn out.  
"Members of the Wizengamot," Kingsley's voice boomed over the courtroom. "Have you reached a verdict?"

A short, stuffy looking Wizard with huge muttonchop sideburns rose and nodded to the Minister. "We have, Minister Shacklebolt," he replied in a high, nasal voice. An expectant hush fell over the courtroom, but the man didn't speak again. Instead, he gazed at Draco with an odd expression on his face, his eyes narrowed and his jaw (what could be seen of it through his odd facial hair) clenched. Hermione couldn't see Draco's face, but she had a feeling he was staring back at the odd little man. She imagined he was probably sneering.

"Do you plan to share it with the rest of us?" Kingsley demanded impatiently after almost a minute of this.

"Guilty," The wizard squeaked, shifting his gaze to the Minister, grinning a bit maniacally. Everyone in the observation area began talking at once. Clearly, Hermione and her friends were not the only ones expecting a different result. "On all charges."

"That's bullshit!" Ron yelled, jumping to his feet. Several others shouted similar comments.

"No way!" Harry shouted, "He didn't do it! I told you! I saw Snape kill Dumbledore! I told you!"

"I will have order in this courtroom!" Kingsley bellowed, his dark skin taking on a slightly reddish tinge. He was clearly upset as he pinned the Wizengamot with a dark scowl. "Guilty on all charges? Including the murder of Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes, sir," Sideburns (as Hermione had decided to call him in her head) replied smugly. "For one thing, we have no way of knowing if he was really lowering his wand when he was joined by the other Death Eaters. Death Eaters who, by all accounts, he helped gain entrance to the castle. Also, we have no real verification that Severus Snape killed Albus Dumbledore, or had any sort of prior agreement with Headmaster Dumbledore to supposedly end his suffering," at this, Sideburns shot a brief smirk at Harry.

"Harry wouldn't lie!" Ron shouted. "Especially not for Malfoy...he hates the little git!"

"Please control yourself, Mister Weasley," Kingsley drawled, though he nodded slightly as if agreeing with his words. "Please continue..." he gestured at Sideburns with a heavy sigh.

"Mister Potter's veracity notwithstanding, it has been stated during these proceedings that extracted memories are not exactly one hundred percent reliable. Also, due to the nature of unbreakable vows, we have concluded that even if Severus Snape was the one to kill Albus Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy basically forced him to under the threat of Snape's own death. There is precedent for this decision in the case of Martin Falston, who, as you know, was forced to murder Andrew Clayton because of an unbreakable vow he had made with Edward Johnson. Mister Johnson was found guilty of that murder along with Mister Falston."

Kingsley opened and closed his mouth a few times. Shaking his head slightly, he said, "You do realize that Mister Malfoy here was underage at the time of Albus Dumbledore's death? Lucius Malfoy swore under Veritaserum that Draco was ordered by Lord Voldemort to kill Dumbledore under the threat of his mother and father's deaths. And Draco was not the one who made the Unbreakable Vow with Severus Snape...his mother did," At this, everyone turned toward Narcissa, who stiffened in her seat.

"We understand that, but it was Draco who agreed to murder Dumbledore," Sideburns shrugged. "We find him guilty," he repeated, nodding stubbornly. A few other members of the Wizengamot also nodded slightly, but many of them shifted uncomfortably in their chairs under Kingsley's harsh glare.

Kingsley rubbed the bridge of his nose for a long moment, shaking his head again. When he looked up, he asked in a tone that made it clear that he was not amused, "Fine. And have you agreed on a sentence?"

"We hereby sentence Draco Malfoy to receive the Dementor's Kiss, to be carried out at dawn on the seventeenth of August," Sideburns announced smugly, turning to smirk at Draco, who jerked violently in his seat, causing his chains to rattle loudly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this story is a bit ridiculous. You've been warned...

Pandemonium broke out in the courtroom once again.

"No!" Narcissa screamed, tossing her usual Malfoy dignity completely to the wind and jumping to her feet in an attempt to climb over the row of seats in front of her to get to her son. "You can't do that! He didn't do anything! It was all his father's fault!"

"Missus Malfoy, please return to your seat," Kingsley bellowed over the loud conversatons and shouting of several other people in the crowd.

Several Aurors entered the room, lining up between the Wizengamot members and the observers. Hermione noticed that a pair of them gently led Narcissa to a seat in the front row, closer to Draco.

When the commotion finally died down a bit, Kingsley turned to Sideburns with a glare that Hermione thought should have been lethal, given how powerful the huge black wizard was at non-verbal and wandless magic. "What, pray tell, is your reasoning for such a harsh sentence?" He ground out, barely keeping his anger in check.

"Mister Malfoy is responsible for the murder of one of the greatest wizards of our time," Sideburns answered casually, seeming not even slightly aware of the overwhelming opposition to his announcement. "Death seems only fitting."

Hermione noticed a few members of the Wizengamot shaking their heads at this and frowned thoughtfully. Clearly, the council's decision hadn't been unanimous.

"I beg to differ," Kingsley muttered. "He's just a boy. He was forced into his actions, such as they were, by arguably the most powerful dark wizard in our history..." At this, Narcissa began nodding her head frantically.

"What...are you saying you think he could be, what's that Muggle word? Rehabilitated?" Sideburns scoffed. "He was raised by dark wizards, with the Dark Lord all but living under his roof for several years. The 'boy', as you call him, is beyond redemption. Just look at how smug he has been through these entire proceedings!" The little wizard gestured scornfully at Draco, who was now slumped in his chair in a decidedly un-smug manner. "Even his so called character witnesses admitted that he looks down on everyone of less than pure blood as if they were vermin. If we don't nip things in the bud now, he'll probably be the next Voldemort!"

Hermione frowned thoughtfully at these words. Was that how her testimony had come across? She hadn't meant it that way at all. In fact, she was pretty sure that a lot of Draco's behavior was entirely due to his father and Voldemort's direct influence. His mother didn't really seem all that bad, and she was absolutely sure, from Harry having shown her his own memories of the night in the Astronomy Tower, that Draco had been about to accept Dumbledore's offer of help before the Death Eaters stormed in.

"He's not that bad!" She heard a voice shout out in the sudden silence of the courtroom. Everyone turned and stared at her and she realized the voice was her own. Even Draco turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised slightly, his eyes wide.

"Oh really?" Sideburns asked mockingly. "Did you not say in your testimony, Miss Granger, that he basically tormented you all through school?"

"I...uh..." Hermione bit her lip, "I said that we fought a lot. It went both ways. But he tried to stop Crabbe from hurting us...that shows he couldn't kill anybody."

"Because if he was going to kill someone, it would certainly be you, or some other muggleborn?" Sideburns smirked.

"I didn't say that," Hermione snapped. "He never really hurt me, and I don't think he would."

"Even one of the boy's worst rivals doesn't think he's capable of the kind of behavior you are suggesting, Higgleton," Kingsley said drily. Hermione glanced over at the Minister and he shot her a quick, approving smile.

"Perhaps we were a bit too hasty," A petite blonde witch in the front row of the Wizengamot spoke up quietly. Unlike the majority of the Wizengamot who were middle-aged or elderly, she appeared to be in her late twenties. When she spoke, Sideburns...Higgleton...shot her a scathing look. "Perhaps, if Miss Granger is willing to stand by what she has said, there is a way we could give Mister Malfoy a chance to show that he is not like his father."

"He's not," Narcissa spoke up quietly. "Look at him, please. He's not a monster."

Hermione looked over at Draco and found him leaning forward in his chains, his head hanging dejectedly.

Sideburns (Hermione couldn't think of him any other way) rolled his eyes and gestured at the blonde witch, "What do you propose, Hilda?" he asked, saying her name as scornfully as possible.

The witch stared thoughtfully at Hermione for a long moment, until she began to squirm under her gaze. "Well, since our primary concern is his attitude toward muggles and muggle borns, and the main target of his previous...unpleasant behavior on that score has been Miss Granger here..." she paused thoughtfully, then turned abruptly toward Kingsley. "Minister, may we speak privately?"

"Who? Me?" Kingsley asked foolishly, clearly as startled by her rapid shift as Hermione felt.

"Just you, Higgleton and myself, at first. If you agree to my idea, then we can include Mister Malfoy and Miss Granger in our discussion," the woman replied a bit primly. "I believe I have a much more suitable...alternative...to sending such a promising young wizard to his death."

The rest of the council must have been having second thoughts about their original sentence as well, because a quick vote showed that all but Higgleton and two or three others agreed that it would be best to let Kingsley and the witch, who was apparently named Hilda Marlow, try to come to some other agreement. Despite the oddity of letting the condemned participate in negotiating his own punishment, It was decided that if an agreement could be reached, the council as a whole would take a final vote on the matter after their discussion.

"Goodness, 'Mione, why does she want you?" Ron whispered nervously as they noticed an Auror approaching them a few minutes later, presumably to escort Hermione to join the private conversation.

"How would I know, Ronald?" Hermione asked, a bit harshly. Her pulse was racing and her palms were sweating as she let the Auror lead her through the same side door Draco had entered the courtroom through previously. She noticed distractedly that Draco had already been led out of the room at some point while she wasn't paying attention.

The middle-aged, slightly balding blond Auror led her down a short, non-descript hallway to a large oak door. Opening it, he gestured briskly for her to enter, then turned and walked away without ever having spoken a word to her.

Hermione swallowed nervously and entered what turned out to be a smallish conference room. Kingsley sat at the far end of a small table, with the two Wizengamot members on either side. Draco was chained to a chair at the end nearest the door. At a loss, Hermione hesitated in the doorway, unsure of where, or even if she should sit.

"Have a seat, Miss Granger," Hilda Marlow smiled warmly at her and pointed at a chair near Draco's end of the table. "Thank you for joining us."

"O-of course," Hermione smiled weakly at her, dropping into the indicated chair just before her suddenly trembling knees could collapse. She pressed them firmly together under the table to try to prevent their shaking, but realized that she was now shaking all over.

"Hermione, please relax," Kingsley sighed, "You're not in any trouble, and we've just brought you in here to, er, I hate to use the words 'make a proposition,' but I'm afraid they're the only ones that fit..." he trailed off to glare at Hilda, who tittered a bit nervously at this. "You don't have to agree to anything..."

"But if you don't, Mister Malfoy here is going to die," Sideburns muttered, sneering at her slightly.

Hermione squeaked, unable to make any other sort of reply, and began shaking even harder.

"Why are you dragging her into this?" Draco asked suddenly. It was the first time Hermione had heard him speak since his trial began, and his voice was weak and raspy. "She didn't do anything wrong and you're obviously scaring her half to death..."

"Well, as I said in the courtroom, she has been the target of most of your prejudice against muggles and muggle borns. She testified as much, and your school records show the rather blatant rivalry between the two of you all through your time at Hogwarts," Hilda began quietly.

Sideburns snorted loudly at this, and the petite blonde cast him a scathing glare.

"Since my colleague here thinks that you are irreversibly biased against Muggleborns, I thought that a more appropriate punishment for your supposed crimes-"

"He was found guilty, Hilda!" Sideburns protested. "There is nothing 'supposed' about them."

"Right," She sighed heavily at him. Turning back toward Draco, she murmured, "If we had precedent for the process, I'd say you really should file for an appeal, by the way..."

Kingsley coughed quietly, "Get on with it, Miss Marlow..."

"Anyway," the blonde witch sighed again, "Since we don't have an appeals process, because we're obviously still stuck in the dark ages, the only alternative to...to killing you, that I could come up with is a...I hate to use the word 'punishment'..." Kingsley cleared his throat impatiently and she huffed irritably before blurting out, "You can prove you're not some raging, muggle hating mass murderer-in-training by marrying one!" She smiled triumphantly and sat back in her chair, gazing at Draco with a look that showed she clearly expected him to throw himself at her feet in a fit of gratitude.

Instead, the blond wizard's jaw dropped open slightly, and he fixed her with a look of such complete and utter confusion, that for once Hermione felt like she was in absolute agreement with him. "Huh?" He managed to croak after gaping at her for a few moments.

"Well, not a muggle, of course. Can you imagine? Where would we even find one willing to marry you? And it would confuse the poor thing," Hilda chuckled softly, making Hermione wonder for a moment if members of the Wizengamot were selected based on having a tendency toward insanity. "I meant a muggleborn. Hermione." The other witch pointed unexpectedly at Hermione, causing her to jerk upright in her chair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one! And yes, I just made up a whole bunch of stuff about magically binding marriages...

"What?" Hermione asked confusedly after waiting a moment for the other woman to continue. Surely she was simply addressing Hermione, and not naming her as the proposed focus of this hairbrained plan...

"My plan is for Draco here to marry you. That way, he can show that he is not a completely lost cause when it comes to muggles and muggle borns," Hilda smiled sweetly, as if the whole idea wasn't completely ludicrous. Hermione was suddenly reminded sickeningly of Dolores Umbridge, minus the blatant malice.

"Oh, hell no!" Hermione blurted out. Turning to Kingsley, she growled, "You can't seriously be considering this?"

"I'm afraid she makes a rather valid point. A few of them, actually." Kingsley sighed. "For one thing, Draco has been found guilty of murder, and several other charges. For another, we don't, currently, have an appeals process in place. If we don't find some alternative punishment to the Dementor's Kiss, something with an established precedent, I'm afraid I will have no other choice than to go along with the Council's sentence. Life in Azkaban wouldn't be much of a substitute, because it implies he's irredeemable."

Hermione glanced quickly at Draco, who was slumped dejectedly in his chair, looking frightfully pale, even for him. Turning back to Kingsley, she noticed Sideburns, who was to her right, smirking triumphantly. "And there's precedent for this?" She asked quietly, despite her better judgement.

"Sort of." Hilda made a so-so motion with her hand. "At least for making a prisoner marry an enemy rather than be put to death. About two hundred years ago there was a vicious feud between two pureblood families, the Notts and the Abbotts-"

"Really?" Hermione interrupted, shocked that she had never heard or read about this. The few students she knew in school from those families barely seemed aware of each other.

"Oh yes." Hilda nodded. "It got quite nasty, until finally one of the Notts, Zachariah, murdered an Abbott...Benjamin, I believe. Zachariah was sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, but the judge who presided over the case hoped he could end the feud by instead allowing...or forcing...the history is a bit vague..."

Kingsley cleared his throat again and Hilda blushed.

"Anyway, rather than killing Zachariah, the judge offered him the alternative of marrying Benjamin's sister, Melissandra. It was supposed to bring the families together and give Zachariah a chance to show that he could change."

"D-did it work?" Hermione stammered, unable to bring herself to look at Draco.

"Sort of." Hilda nodded, "Both families were so angry at the judge for forcing the two of them to marry...oh yes, he did force them because Melissandra wanted nothing to do with it and he threatened her with the Dementor's Kiss as well, if she didn't cooperate..."

Hermione let out a squeak and her shaking escalated to the point that the arm of her chair began banging on the edge of the table. "You can't do that!" She finally managed to gasp.

"Oh, no, of course not," Hilda agreed, shooting her a look as if Hermione were the crazy one. "But if you did agree to this, we would have to have some sort of penalty for you if we should find out later that the marriage didn't work out because you were not cooperating."

"Hilda!" Kingsley growled warningly.

"It would only be an issue if she agrees to give it a try and then doesn't put any effort into it," Hilda clarified quickly. "We wouldn't punish her for not giving him a chance at all. Her conscience will probably punish her enough if she doesn't agree."

"Enough!" Draco yelled suddenly, his voice cracking. Everyone turned to stare at him in shock. Bright red spots stood out on both his cheeks as he leaned forward against the chains binding him to his chair and glared at the three at the other end of the table. The tiny blotches of color made the rest of his face look even more pallid in comparison. "This is ridiculous! This is the most bloody insane thing I have ever heard of! You can't be serious! I would rather die-"

Hermione gasped. "You really hate me so much you'd rather die than marry me?" She snarled, almost forgetting momentarily that she hated him as much as he hated her, and that she shouldn't really be surprised or offended by the revelation that he didn't want to marry her.

He scowled at her. "If you'd let me finish...I would rather die than let them drag you into this. I know you think I don't deserve to die, but, well...I did let them into the school. And maybe you forgot I poisoned your boyfriend?"

"See?" Higgleton piped up, pointing at Draco, and giving Kingsley and Hilda meaningful looks.

Hermione wanted to slap the smug look off his face, but figured that wouldn't be wise considering his position on the Wizengamot. Turning back toward Draco, she was surprised to see that he was staring intently at her, a pleading expression on his face. If only she could tell exactly what he was silently begging her to do. "Wait...would you want to do this? I mean, if I agreed, would you even do it?"

"You don't want to, so it doesn't matter." He shook his head slightly, but she noticed a slight glint of something that looked almost like hope in his eyes. "We hate each other. It's ridiculous."

"Yes, we do." Hermione nodded, unable to argue with that. "But do I hate you enough that I could live with letting you die?" She sat up in her chair, unaware that she was still speaking as she considered the question. "You're a spoiled pain in the arse, and I hate you more than anyone but Voldemort, your father and your psychotic aunt, but I'm thinking I don't hate you enough that I could live with that..." she realized with dread that it was true...Hilda was right, her conscience would destroy her if she let them kill him. "I'll do it," she announced, slumping miserably in her chair.

"What? No!" Draco gasped, then frowned confusedly. "Why?"

"If, somehow, our positions were reversed, would you do it?" Hermione asked quietly.

He snorted scornfully. "As if the Gryffindor Princess would ever be in my shoes right now..." He rolled his eyes. "You're such a goody goody, I bet you've never even kept a library book past the due date."

"Malfoy!" Hermione leaned toward him, hissing his name irritably. "Are you bloody kidding me? Look at where you are...try to stop insulting me for five minutes. Just think about it...honestly, would you let me be sentenced to death on some stupid, trumped up charges if you could prevent it by marrying me? It doesn't mean anything...I don't care if you sleep around or whatever. Just answer the bloody question."

"Well, actually, we'd require a magically binding marriage, so neither of you would be physically able to have intercourse with anyone else..." Hilda piped up.

Hermione let her head fall to the table in front of her with a rather painful thud. "Are you kidding me?"

"No," Hilda replied a bit too cheerfully.

Hermione groaned.

"The marriage would have to be consummated at some point, too. But we can discuss deadlines and conditions after you both two agree to the marriage," the older witch said confidently.

Draco snorted. "Granger, I definitely hate you less than certain other people in this room right now," he muttered so quietly that only Hermione could hear him.

Hermione laughed despite her total frustration with the situation. "So, is that a yes?" She sighed miserably.

"No." Draco shook his head. "I can't ask you to do this...it's nuts."

"You're not asking me to, they are. And I told you, I don't think...no...I know for a fact that I wouldn't be able to live with knowing you were k-killed because of me."

"You stupid, bloody honorable, fucking Gryffindor!" Draco growled. "You lot are all so fucking noble...frankly it's disgusting."

"What's disgusting is your complete lack of gratitude, you prat!" Hermione snapped back. "You'd rather I feel guilty and miserable the rest of my life rather than just let me save you? You stupid, spiteful arsehole!"

"This is going well," she heard Kingsley comment drily in the background. "I thought they'd have hexed each other by now..."

"Yes, actually. I would rather let you suffer for the five minutes it would probably take you to get over it than live with the indignity of letting you do such a stupid, ridiculously unselfish, and did I mention stupid, thing for someone you hate as much as me. Seriously...I would never be able to live it down..." Draco sneered.

"Marrying a muggleborn?" Sideburns interjected, sounding triumphant again.

"No, letting her ruin her life like that!" Draco shot back. "My life is a complete and utter disaster, and I refuse to have a fucked up, loveless marriage like my parents!"

Hermione sighed heavily. Taking a deep breath to try to calm her temper before speaking, she finally ground out through gritted teeth, "I can't believe that you think your death would only bother me for five minutes. I'm not some heartless Slytherin. I care what happens to people...even people I can't stand. You're innocent, Draco. You didn't kill Dumbledore. You didn't even want to kill Dumbledore. That bastard Voldemort forced you to try, probably hoping you would fail so he could kill your family. If you let them kill you, then Voldemort will have won. He's already destroyed your father's life, are you really willing to let him destroy yours just to save your bloody pride?" He frowned sulkily at this, but she noticed him chewing on the inside of his cheek, and knew he was finally really thinking about it. "Malfoy...Draco...please. You have to at least consider it. Think about your Mum..."

Draco froze, his eyes widening slightly, and she knew she had him. "I-I'm not saying I'll do it, but what would the conditions be? The deadline..." his voice was barely above a whisper as he turned reluctantly to Hilda.

The blonde woman perked up, smiling brightly. "I knew you would both see reason!" She picked up a pile of parchment in front of her and shuffled through it briefly.

Hermione snuck a glance at Draco and found him chewing his lip so hard he had drawn blood. "I wouldn't call it reason..." he muttered, then glanced over, saw her looking at him, and scowled.

"Are you just going to keep being an arse about this?" Hermione grumbled.

"Yes," he nodded casually, and Hermione turned to Kingsley in disgust.

"This is insane," She complained, hating the whiny tone that had crept into her voice.

"Yes," the Minister replied, in much the same tone Draco had.

Hermione rolled her eyes and slumped back in her seat.

"Anyhoo..." Hilda continued as if there had been no interruptions. "As this is meant to be...not so much a punishment but an attempt to reform Mister Malfoy, we're going to have to set some very strict rules and conditions as to how this is going to work. I mean, there are ways...tiny loopholes that can be worked into the ceremony...that make it possible for a couple to undergo a magically binding marriage ritual and then never see each other again..." she seemed to be on the verge of babbling again.

Hermione perked up for a moment, hoping against hope that the other witch would explain how she and Draco could take advantage of such a loophole.

However, Hilda's next words crushed that idea like a bug. "That's not going to happen with you two."

"Figures," Draco muttered.

"The whole point of this marriage would be to show the wizarding world at large that you can tolerate muggle borns just as well as the next wizard. How are we going to prove that if you marry Hermione in name only, and then high tail it to the other side of the world to live your life in celibate loneliness rather than have anything to do with her?" Hilda asked impatiently.

"A fellow can dream, can't he?" Draco sighed a long, exaggerated sigh.

Hermione had to admit it was an appealing idea. Except maybe for the enforced lifelong celibacy. She and Ron had dated for a month or so after the battle at Hogwarts, and the one thing she had learned from the experience (other than the fact that Ron's table manners were irritating in a friend, but absolutely intolerable in a boyfriend) was that sex was something she really liked. Even more than books. Go figure...

"So...if the council agrees to this, you would have to be married as soon as possible. The ceremony must take place before Draco can be released from Azkaban," Kingsley said somberly. Turning to Hermione he added, "We can't just release him to your custody without something binding him to you. He'd disappear before the ritual could be performed."

Draco huffed and opened his mouth to protest, but the Minister silenced him with one of his not-quite-lethal glares.

"Okay." Hermione nodded understandingly, wondering if they could give her a week or two to get herself used to the idea. Or maybe to obliviate herself and run off to Australia after her parents. Her conscience couldn't bother her about something she didn't remember. Could it?

"Fine," Draco muttered. "How soon can we do it?"

"What?" Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "You were all-" she huffed dramatically, imitating his protest from moments before, "-like two seconds ago..."

"That wasn't about getting it over with quickly. I want out of that place as soon as possible," Draco shuddered slightly. "I was merely upset by the implication that I'd make a run for it. Being stuck with you can't be as horrible as being in that place."

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, then shook her head dismissively and turned back toward the others. "Can we make some sort of rule that he has to stop insulting me all the time?"

"That is pretty much a requirement of this whole proceeding," Kingsley nodded, pinning Draco with yet another dirty look. "We're going to check up on you frequently, and if after, say a year, you two are still behaving toward each other like you are today, the deal is off. Although, I would say if you both give it a sincere effort, and it's just not working due to...a natural incompatibility...after that long, we would lessen Draco's sentence to life in Azkaban rather than the Dementor's Kiss."

"Oh goodie, something to look forward to," Draco muttered. "Maybe you should just kill me now."

"You do realize that, for the most part, you are the one being rude to Hermione, and not the other way around, right?" Hilda snapped, clearly becoming annoyed.

Hermione smothered a smile, not wanting to provoke Draco into any behavior that would actually make the witch change her mind about offering him a second chance. Although...if Draco blew his own chance to avoid execution, her conscience couldn't hold that against her...

Draco frowned, then turned toward Hermione. "I'm sorry," he murmured, sounding remarkably sincere. "I know you're just trying to help...though why you would want to, Merlin only knows. This is just...I'm a little stressed right now. I really didn't expect things to go this badly, you know?" He frowned briefly at Sideburns, then turned back toward Hermione. "Anyway, it's not your fault, so...I'm sorry."

Hermione stared at him, at a complete loss for words. "I...uh...oh..."

"If I knew it would be that easy to shut you up, I would have apologized to you years ago." Draco smirked, rousing her from her shock.

"Ugh, you git!" Hermione growled, throwing up her hands in disgust.

"Oh dear...I thought for a moment there they might be bonding..." Hilda murmured sadly, shaking her head.

"She still hasn't hexed him," Kingsley pointed out, patting the blonde's hand reassuringly. Hilda raised an eyebrow at him, looking skeptical. "No, really, that's a remarkably good sign," he explained, flashing a quick wink at Hermione, who snorted and smiled involuntarily despite her frustration.

"It really is." Draco nodded at Hilda, then glanced sideways at Hermione. "Normally I'd be covered in boils or something by now. Are you feeling alright, Granger?"

Hermione snorted again, and laughed. "You already look like shite, Malfoy. Boils might kill you off. And who knows what they might make me marry if I end up on trial for your murder."

Draco rolled his eyes, but a smile briefly crossed his face, and Kingsley chuckled. "See?" he patted Hilda's hand again. "I'd wager this is the closest these two have ever come to getting along."

"Well, as touching as that...isn't," Sideburns spoke up suddenly, rolling his eyes, "Do you think we could move this farce along? I'd like to have lunch sometime today."

Kingsley nodded agreeably. "Right...so...it'll have to a magically bonding marriage. How much do you know about magical marriages as compared to muggle traditions, Hermione?"

Hermione thought for a moment, "Well...I know that depending on the ceremony that is used, the bond can prevent either spouse from being able to cheat on the other, although I'm not sure how..."

"Speaking of boils..." Draco murmured, letting out a mournful sigh and hanging his head.

"Aw, no more 'Slytherin Sex God' days for you?" Hermione sneered, for some reason annoyed by his apparent unwillingness to stop chasing everything on two legs. She shoved aside the thought that she might just be regretting her own lack of experience.

"No," Draco replied through tightly clenched teeth. "I was actually just remembering smelling my father's blasted healing ointment every couple of weeks," he explained, shuddering. "I always wondered how he could do that to poor Mum. It was like a slap in the face every time he turned up at the breakfast table squirming around in his chair because his arse was covered." Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust at this revelation. "I swore a long time ago that if I ever got married, I'd never treat my wife that way." Raising his head, Draco looked her in the eye and said, "Besides, being a sex god doesn't necessarily have to mean sleeping with more than one person. It could just mean you're really good at it." He grinned slightly and wiggled his eyebrows.

Hermione blushed, and quickly looked away. Kingsley, Hilda and Sideburns were staring at Draco with expressions of amusement, awe, and disgust, respectively. "Anyway...um...I know the bond can make it so if the couple spends too much time apart, or spends any time too far apart...like opposite sides of the world, they both start to lose their magic. After a while it can become permanent. And the wording of the vows usually makes it so the marriage can never be dissolved." Turning to Kingsley, she asked, "How is that going to work if you decide to send him back to Azkaban after a year? Am I going to be stuck still married to him? Would I have to go visit him regularly so I don't lose my magic?"

Kingsley frowned and shot a questioning look at Hilda, who tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I think we can add a clause wherein if, and only if, you have made a sincere effort to make the marriage work in that year, but it fails solely because of Draco, you will be allowed to have the marriage annulled. However, if you have in any way contributed to the failure of the marriage, or, preferably, if the marriage is actually working at that point, your vows will become unbreakable, along with any side-effects associated with the bond."

"Can we not use the words 'vow' and 'unbreakable' together, please?" Draco muttered and Sideburns snorted.

"Um...isn't that kind of harsh?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "I mean, I'm not the one who's being punished, or reformed or whatever, here. Why should I have to lose my magic if this doesn't work?"

"Well, I think we owe it to Draco to make sure that you don't take this too lightly and ruin his only chance to redeem himself," Hilda pointed out, "As long as you don't plan to deliberately instigate fights, try to commit adultery, or go weeks or months at a time without seeing him, you shouldn't have to worry about it anyway." She caught Hermione's gaze and asked, "You don't plan on doing any of those things, do you?"

"Of course not!" Hermione replied scornfully. "I'm not that kind of person!"

"Moving on then..." Hilda gestured dismissively, then turned to Kingsley. "What do you think about the time limit for the consummation? Wedding night, and get it over quickly like ripping off a bandage, or give them a while to work up to it?"

"I'm not touching that one...this was your idea, you decide," Kingsley answered quickly as both Draco and Hermione reacted with gagging noises and other disgusted sounds.

"Do we have to?" Hermione choked out, shuddering. "I mean, really, what does that have to do with being able to get along with muggle borns. People don't go around having sex with every person they get along with...most people, anyway," she added, shooting a meaningful and distasteful look at Draco.

"Oi!" He snapped, "Stop talking like I'm the biggest slag to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts or something. I told you, I don't sleep around."

"That's beside the point..." Hilda interjected, but Hermione noticed she was now smiling, perhaps a little too fondly, at Draco. "Let's see...yes, the marriage has to be consummated. That is one condition that can never be avoided in a magical bonding. However, we can manipulate the deadline by which that must take place. I think if we insist that it take place on the wedding night, someone might wind up dead, which would defeat the entire purpose of this..."

"Ya think?" Draco chuckled. "I'm not sure having my bollocks hexed off is all that appealing an alternative to making out with a Dementor, thank you very much..."

"Ugh!" Hermione grunted. "I wouldn't hex you if we had to...ugh...do...that or lose our magic." Thinking about who she was talking to, she quickly added, "Unless you were a pig about it."

Draco leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow slightly. Grinning teasingly, he asked, "Define 'being a pig about it,' please? I certainly wouldn't want to accidentally offend your virgin sensibilities."

"I'm not a virgin," Hermione shot back, smirking as his jaw dropped slightly. "Just because you don't want to sleep with me doesn't mean no one ever has, so don't look so surprised," she added irritably.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I never said I wouldn't want to," he said after a moment, deliberately looking her up and down and winking. "I just figured you were the type to save yourself for marriage or whatever."

"Somewhere in there just now...that was being a pig about it," Hermione muttered disgustedly.

"Okay, Honey, I don't know what kind of Puritanical boys you've been hanging out with," Hilda interjected, chuckling, "But that was nothing."

"What house were you in at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"I went to Beaubaxtons," Hilda answered, looking confused. "Why?"

Hermione eyed the other witch's long, silky blonde hair for a moment and remembered how all the boys at Hogwarts had reacted to the Beauxbaton girls during the Triwizard Tournament. "That explains a lot." Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the confused look Hilda and Draco exchanged, returning Kingsley's amused grin instead.

"Bloody hell. Two weeks. Give them two weeks and lets go get the Council's vote so we can get the hell out of here!" Sideburns exclaimed impatiently. His stomach growled loudly, and even he laughed. "Look, I hate to admit it, but this is probably a worse punishment for the boy than a quick, easy death, so lets get on with it already," he mumbled awkwardly as he stood up and headed for the door.

"He just doesn't want to admit that the council almost made a horrible mistake," Hilda whispered conspiratorially after he'd stepped into the hall to summon an Auror to escort Draco back to the courtroom.

"I think maybe he's right," Draco murmured dryly, but when Hermione whipped her head around to glare at him, he winked teasingly at her, taking some of the fire out of her.

"Prat," She retorted flatly, sticking out her tongue at him.

"Oooh, nice tongue, Granger," He grinned. Turning to Hilda, he sarcastically asked, "Do we have to wait the whole two weeks?"

Hilda snorted. "No, that's the longest you can wait, but judging by the look on her face right now, that question was considered piggish. You might want to wait at least a week, and let her calm down first."

"Kingsley!" Hermione whined, turning on the Minister, who immediately jumped to his feet.

"I told you...leave me out of that side of things. I do not want to know." He grinned weakly, then followed Sideburns into the corridor.

"Are all Gryffindors such prudes?" Draco asked Hermione, his tone completely serious.

Deciding to treat him to some of his own medicine, Hermione smirked slowly, then looked him over, ignoring the fact that he really did look terrible as she pretended to find his scrawny form even remotely appealing. Licking her lips, she purred, "Oh, I'll show you prudish, Draco. Just ask Ron...we broke up a month ago, and he's still got scratches..." She caught a quick glimpse of his jaw dropping comically as she abruptly stood up and walked out of the room, attempting to put a sexy sway in her step despite her wobbly knees.

"I think you've gotten me into more trouble than I was already in..." she heard Draco mutter as she cleared the doorway. She immediately collapsed against the wall beside it, trying to steady her breathing and get her legs to stop shaking long enough for her to make it back to the courtroom.

"Please sit up front, behind the defendant's chair," Kingsley requested when she caught up to him in the doorway to the courtroom.

He pointed at an empty chair next to Narcissa Malfoy, and Hermione groaned.

"Seriously?" she complained.

"You're going to have to get used to her. You'll probably be living with her," Kingsley pointed out a bit reluctantly.

"Oh gods, I didn't even think about that. We have to live together?" Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"What part of 'no spending too much time apart' did you not understand?" Kingsley chuckled.

"Ugh. Just...ugh...." Hermione muttered. "This is going to suck."

"Probably." Kingsley nodded and she shot him a dirty look, "At first, at least," he amended quickly. Clearing his throat, he patted her gently on the shoulder. "In all seriousness, though, I want to thank you for agreeing to give him this chance. I can't think of any other muggle born witch who could possibly pull this off. Otherwise, I would have suggested a few others for him to choose from."

Hermione snorted scornfully at the idea of Draco trying to pick a suitable bride from a list of unwilling muggle born witches. "Good luck with that."

"Exactly." Kingsley chuckled, "You're the only one I know who is strong-minded and intelligent enough to put up with his personality and not run screaming."

"It's very generous of you to suggest that he even has a personality. It comes off more like some sort of mental illness most of the time..." Hermione joked, rolling her eyes.

"See...that's the attitude that just might make this work." Kingsley grinned. Hearing chains rattling in the hallway behind them, he sighed, schooled his features into a more serious expression, and motioned for her to enter the courtroom ahead of him. "After you."

Hermione swallowed nervously and walked into the room. She had expected the crowd the have thinned out a bit, considering it was lunch time, but the benches were now completely full, with what looked like dozens of spectators standing at the back of the room. Smiling weakly in response to Harry and Ron's anxious, questioning looks, she shook her head to indicate she couldn't join them before reluctantly taking her seat beside Draco's mother.

"What's happening?" the older woman whispered immediately, her eyes puffy and bloodshot and her face lined with tears. "Is Draco alright?"

Taking pity on her, Hermione reached over and hesitantly patted her on the arm. "He's fine. Everything's going to be okay."

"Is he really? You're not just saying that?" Narcissa asked suspiciously. "Lucius always said that, and looked what happened to him..." she frowned anxiously.

"I promise." Hermione smiled, trying to be reassuring, but afraid she looked like she was going to throw up. She must have been right about that, because Narcissa looked more worried than ever as Draco was led into the courtroom.

He was still restrained, but Hermione noticed that most of his chains had been removed, leaving only a set of light manacles and shackles. He looked up at Harry and Ron, and then searched around the room. When his eyes settled on Hermione, he smiled ever so slightly before settling in his seat, a few feet away.

"See? They're going to let him go soon. I swear." Hermione whispered to his mother.

"They are?" She asked hopefully. "When?"

Hermione wasn't sure if he actually heard his mother's whispered question, or if it was just a coincidence, but Draco twisted around in his chair just then and mouthed, "This afternoon?"

"Why is it up to you?" Narcissa asked suspiciously, but Hermione ignored her, deciding to let Kingsley (or just about anyone else), explain the situation to the older woman.

In the meantime, she chewed her lip anxiously for a moment, then nodded at Draco, who smiled faintly at her before turning back to face the Wizengamot. Once his back was turned, Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead. As much as she'd prefer to put this off as long as humanly possible, she knew there was no way she would be able to sleep that night if she let him be sent back to Azkaban knowing she could get him released immediately. Reflecting on this decision, she decided she just might have a seriously overdeveloped guilt complex. Of course, that was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

"Order in the court!" Kingsley bellowed suddenly, jerking her attention back to the present. "I am pleased to announce that an alternative...arrangement...has been reached as far as the...we'll call it the rehabilitation...of Draco Malfoy. As it was her idea, I'll let Miss Marlow explain the details before the Council votes on the matter."

Hilda stood up and began speaking, but Hermione did her best to tune her out, instead staring straight ahead to avoid making eye contact with any of her friends, most of whom she knew were going to explode any second now. She couldn't help noticing when Hilda said her own name, and cringed, waiting for the fatal moment. She noticed that Draco's shoulders seemed especially tense, also, and realized that the few friends he had left that weren't in Azkaban weren't going to like this any more than her own. Then, she heard the word, "Marriage," and, as she'd expected, all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/16/15 to remove references to Draco touching Lucius and having sex with "two girls" (even though he was lying, it just made things confusing, so I decided to take it out).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a daughter with Autism, and this story is in no way meant to make it seem like people with Autism Spectrum Disorders all act like jerks like Draco. I just picture this magical disorder (which I made up because my muse likes to try to excuse his stupid behavior), which basically cuts off all emotions as well as one's ability to feel physical pain, as being similar enough in the emotional aspect of it that the healer who had diagnosed him and now Narcissa, both thought comparing the two might be a good way to try to explain it...especially to a muggle born like Hermione. I only actually noticed the similarity after I had come up with Draco's symptoms. My daughter, for one, is absolutely nothing like Draco. If you've met one person with Autism, you've met *one* person with Autism. No two are alike.

"You're going to marry him?!" Narcissa exclaimed from her left, loudly enough to be heard over all the other shouting that had broken out throughout the room. "He's going to marry you?!"

Hermione flinched away from the other woman, half expecting a violent reenactment of her older sister's previous treatment of her, but instead suddenly found herself in a painfully tight embrace.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you for saving my son!" Narcissa began sobbing again as she all but smothered Hermione against her chest.

"I...can't...marry...anyone...if...I'm...dead..." Hermione gasped, struggling to pull away.

"Mum...let her go! You're suffocating her!" She heard Draco's rather muffled shout from close by; then she could suddenly breath again when Narcissa immediately released her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Darling. I'm just so, so relieved." Narcissa patted her on the back as she tried to catch her breath. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome, I think..." Hermione coughed and rubbed her chest.

"'Mione!" Hearing Harry shout her name, she reluctantly turned her head to look up at her friends. As she expected, Ron was scowling furiously, but Harry just raised an eyebrow and mouthed, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," Hermione mouthed back, nodding.

Harry grinned weakly, and mouthed, "Good luck!" Glancing quickly at Ron, who appeared to be trying to burn holes through Draco with his eyes, he added, "You're going to need it."

Hermione sighed and nodded knowingly.

Before she could say anything else, Kingsley yelled, "Silence! I will have order in this courtroom, or so help me, I'll have you all thrown out!"

Most of the observers settled down immediately upon hearing this threat. This was, after all, the most stunning turn of events to take place in any of the Death Eater trials so far. It was unlikely to be topped by any of the few trials that had yet to take place. Draco was the last person to be facing any serious charges. The rest were all young adults...mostly his classmates in Slytherin, facing only the charge of being loyal to Voldemort. No one wanted to miss the bizarre story unfolding before them.

A few people, particularly one witch, who appeared to be in her mid-thirties and kept screaming about slavery and women's rights, had to be escorted from the room, but eventually silence prevailed.

"Finally," Kingsley muttered, rubbing his temples. "Alright then, if we can just get a vote to approve this agreement..." The dark look he settled on the Wizengamot left no doubt that anyone voting against the plan would likely suffer a fate worse than death. "All in favor, say 'Aye!'"

As far as Hermione could tell, all of the Wizengamot members responded in unison. At any rate, no one dared to speak up when the Minister asked, "Anyone opposed?" He looked the group over briefly, then quickly banged his gavel. "Approved! Mister Malfoy will be released as soon as the marriage ceremony has been performed! Have you decided when that will be?" He turned on Hermione abruptly, and she flinched.

"T-today, if we can find someone to perform the rites," she answered, her voice faint since her throat seemed to have dried out completely.

"Well, I do believe that _I_ am authorized to do so," Kingsley replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Alright, we'll get this thing over with...after lunch." Turning back to the Wizengamot, he bellowed, "This hearing is adjourned. We'll continue with the next case tomorrow morning. You are all dismissed. Now get the hell out of my courtroom!"

Narcissa jumped to her feet and ran over to Draco, who slowly stood up and looked around uncertainly. "Oh Darling! I've missed you, so!" she cried delightedly, hugging him even more tightly than she had hugged Hermione. "We need to get you out of these rags. You can't get married looking like this..." She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she pinched a fold of his ragged robe between her fingers.

"Mum, they're not releasing me until after the ceremony. I think I'm supposed to go back to the holding cells until then," he sighed, eying an Auror who began approaching them after speaking to Kingsley.

"Minister Shacklebolt asked me to inform you that he will be available to perform your wedding ceremony at two o'clock, here in the courtroom. In the meantime, he has ordered food and refreshments to be served for you in the conference room. He also said to feel free to invite any of your friends or relations you wish to attend the ceremony," the Auror said briskly. Turning to Draco, he pulled out his wand, causing the blond to flinch. "I guess you don't need those anymore...but you won't be getting your wand back until after the ceremony," he mumbled. With a wave of his wand, Draco's restraints disappeared, leaving him looking slightly stunned. The Auror gestured for them to follow him, and quickly led them back to the small conference room in which Hermione felt she had already spent far too much time. The three took seats around the table, Narcissa sitting on one side and Hermione reluctantly sitting beside Draco on the other.

"Wow, I forgot what it feels like not lugging all that weight around." Draco smiled tiredly and slowly rotated his wrists.

"Let me see..." Hermione requested, pulling out her wand to heal the bruises she'd seen when his sleeve rode up a bit.

"No, it's fine." He shook his head and put his hands behind his back.

"Let. Me. See. Git." Hermione growled, grabbing his left arm and trying to pull it back in front of him.

"Leave. Me. Alone. Bi-" Draco began, glaring at her.

"Draco Malfoy!" Narcissa snapped. "Stop behaving like a child and listen to your wife."

"She's not my wife yet, Mother," Draco pointed out sulkily.

"And do you really expect her to become such if you act this way?" Narcissa asked. Sighing sadly, she said, "You disappoint me, Draco. I would expect better from you than to behave so rudely toward someone who is willingly making a huge sacrifice to save your life." she smiled briefly but warmly at Hermione before turning back to her son. "Now let the young lady take care of your injuries. You'll have to get used to her touching you once you are married."

"But Mum..." Draco groaned, his eyes widening with horror.

Hermione scowled and jumped to her feet. "You don't want to be touched by a filthy mudblood, is that it?!" She yelled. "Forget this, you arsehole! I hope the Dementor is less offensive to your stupid purebred sensibilities!"

"What?" Draco gasped, his face going white as snow beneath the smudges of dirt scattered across his forehead and cheeks. "No, that's not it! Granger, come back here..." he called after her as she bolted out the door, his voice filled with desperation.

Hermione made it almost to the main entrance of the courtroom before Narcissa scared the hell out of her by suddenly and inexplicably apparating into place in front of her, blocking the door with her wand in hand. "Please don't go!"

"Holy shit!" Hermione yelped, backpedalling frantically. "How did you do that? Apparation is supposed to be impossible inside the Ministry!" She eyed the woman's wand nervously and clenched her own tightly in her fist, despite all the dueling lessons that had taught her better. Mentally slapping herself in the forehead, she forced herself to relax her grip on the thin piece of vinewood.

Narcissa observed this and quickly lowered her wand, snorting softly. "I'm not going to hurt you, dear. I'm sorry I startled you, but I had to stop you. I have to explain about Draco's...condition."

"Condition?" Hermione repeated dubiously. "Being a racist snob is not a condition, Missus Malfoy, it's a personality flaw."

Narcissa surprised her by smiling at this. "Oh, dear girl, you really are perfect for him. He has too much of his father in him. He needs someone with spirit, someone who won't put up with his...well...his bullshit." The older woman's cheeks colored slightly and she cleared her throat. "I wish I had stood up to Lucius more often, and earlier in our relationship. Perhaps things would have gone a lot differently." She unconsciously toyed with her wedding ring for a moment, and Hermione felt a stronger surge of the sympathy she had felt for the woman earlier that day.

"So, what exactly is this 'condition' of Draco's?" She murmured quietly after a few minutes of waiting in vain for Narcissa to continue. Later on, she would probably wonder why she hadn't just taken the opportunity to slip by the woman while she was lost in her thoughts.

"Oh, yes..." Narcissa shook her head slightly as if to clear her head. "Well, you are a muggle-born, so perhaps you would understand best if I told you how a muggle-born healer once described it to me when Draco was first diagnosed as a child. She said that some muggles suffer from a very similar condition that they call 'Asperger's Syndrome'. It makes it difficult for them to interact with other people. They have trouble understanding other people's emotions, so they can't empathize well with others..."

Hermione blinked, shocked. "D-Draco has Asperger's?" Several things suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

"No. No...only muggles get that, and it's a little different. As I understand it, muggles with Asperger's syndrome can have delays in speech and learning, and they sometimes also have physical issues, like poor coordination and clumsiness. Obviously, Draco has none of that. He just has a great deal of trouble in relating to people. I'm sure you noticed that even among the other children in Slytherin house, he's never had any really close friends." Narcissa looked at her questioningly.

"I-I didn't notice. I never really spent much time with him." Hermione shook her head, "And when I did, he was usually insulting me."

"Ah, well, that's partly because he doesn't really know how to befriend others. If you weren't a muggle born, he probably would have just ignored you completely...or at least it would have seemed that way to you. He doesn't approach most people at all, because he has trouble coming up with anything to say, even though I know he desperately wants to connect with others." Narcissa shook her head sadly. "Unfortunately, Lucius filled his head with all sorts of horrible things about muggleborns, and Draco just mimicked him, like an obnoxious little parrot."

Hermione frowned. "So...what...he just didn't realize he was making me feel bad? I find that hard to believe."

"Well, when he was younger he probably didn't understand quite how badly he must have hurt your feelings. Having V-V...the Dark Lord in the house certainly wasn't a good influence, but I have tried my best to work with him over the years, and he has actually made a great deal of progress," Narcissa stated proudly. "He definitely doesn't share his father's opinions on blood status. He just has no idea how to interact with you now. YOU make him especially uncomfortable because he does know that he hurt your feelings, and it's harder for him to try to make amends than it would be for someone without Falstad's Disorder."

"Is that what wizards call it?" Hermione asked, trying to wrap her mind around this revelation. "Was that the first wizard to be diagnosed with Asperger's or the one who did the diagnosing?"

"It's not Asperger's..." Narcissa shook her head impatiently. "Like I said, there are distinct differences, like the lack of physical or language delays. In fact, Draco began talking exceptionally early, even for a wizard. And sometimes he doesn't know when to stop." She grinned ruefully.

"Most of the time..." Hermione giggled. Then she remembered why they were in the hallway in the first place. "So...is that why he doesn't like to be touched? Does it hurt him, or..." She trailed off questioningly.

"It doesn't necessarily hurt him." Narcissa shook her head quickly. "He feels things differently. Ironically, painful sensations are usually somewhat numbed, so he often doesn't realize when he's injured. But while he doesn't feel many normally painful stimuli, he feels otherwise neutral or even pleasant sensations far more intensely than normal. Sometimes to the point that they cause him discomfort. The problem is heightened when he is anxious or uncomfortable."

"How did he ever have sex with anyone?" Hermione blurted out, remembering his comment about his definition of a sex god, then slapping her hand over her mouth in horror upon remembering who she was speaking with.

Narcissa just laughed merrily. "Has he? He didn't tell me. Good for him!" She beamed. "It was probably Pansy...they've been friends since they were both in nappies. He'd feel comfortable with her. Lucius would have arranged a marriage between them, but her father found out about Draco's diagnosis when he was very young, and he was afraid it would be passed along to any children they might have."

"Could it be?" Hermione asked, her heart sinking. She didn't really plan to ever have children, and she sure as hell didn't intend to have them with Draco, but for some reason the idea that whatever was wrong with him meant he couldn't have children made her a little sad.

"No," Narcissa shook her head. Frowning a bit, she went on in a low voice, "Falstad's isn't genetic. It's the result of...of..." tears began to flow down her cheeks and she covered her eyes as she lowered her head and mumbled something unintelligible.

"I'm sorry...what?" Hermione asked gently.

"It's Bellatrix' fault!" Narcissa growled. "In Draco's case, Falstad's is the result of him being exposed to dark magic while still in the womb." Narcissa sobbed quietly and Hermione's eyes flew open in horror. "The healers suspect the disorder is actually an extremely rare sort of natural defense mechanism that is sometimes activated when a magical child is harmed in utero."

"What? Wait...are you saying your own sister hexed you when you were pregnant?!" Hermione hissed. "That's horrible!"

"You have to understand...Bella's always been unstable," Narcissa sniffled. "When I found out that I was pregnant, I foolishly made a stupid joke about how I was going to get all fat and ugly, and she got angry. She can't...well...couldn't have children, you see. So she used an ancient spell to transfer him f-from my womb to hers..." She trailed off as she began crying harder again.

"Oh my god!" Hermione found herself putting her arm around the older witch. "Thank Merlin it didn't work!"

"Oh, but it did," Narcissa replied, shaking her head. "She stole him from me. It took the healers two months to find a way to move him back without harming one or both of us."

Hermione didn't think her eyes could get any wider, but she felt them nearly pop out of her head at this. Sometimes, things in the wizarding world made her almost wish she'd never heard of magic. For several minutes she just stood there, speechless, as Narcissa tried to pull herself together. Finally, she mumbled, "How did you ever forgive her?"

"I never said I did," Narcissa answered, frowning bitterly. "I was forced to spend time with her because of V-v...the Dark Lord. Lucius was his right hand man, and Bella was his...well...she was just HIS. I wasn't exactly in a position where I could continue to ban her from the mansion."

Hermione frowned, "That's terrible. I can't even imagine..." She patted Narcissa awkwardly on the shoulder. "I think if I were you, I would have hexed her until her own mother didn't recognize her."

"Oh, believe me, it was tempting." Narcissa chuckled darkly. "But when it first happened I couldn't risk hurting Draco, and once they managed to transfer him back to me, I was put on bedrest. I nearly lost him several times..." She shuddered slightly. "He was very weak when he was born...he needed lots of attention, and by the time he was well, she was already in Azkaban. I couldn't risk them throwing me in along with her if I went there to curse the bitch." Her eyes narrowed slightly and she clenched her fists. "I should have...she hurt so many people. Including you..." she smiled apologetically. "I should have killed her."

"Of course not," Hermione said reassuringly. "Draco needed his mother." She patted her lightly on the arm again.

"Yes," Narcissa nodded slowly, then shook her head a bit. "Yes, you're right. I must say I do envy Molly Weasley a bit for having the opportunity to rid the world of that monster," she murmured, her eyes flashing a bit maniacally.

Hermione shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Right...um...well..." She glanced at the exit door again, then back toward the door leading to the conference room where they'd left Draco. She was momentarily at a loss as to which one she ought to take.

Narcissa's expression softened and she smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry...you must think I'm as mad as Bella. I didn't really mean to reveal all of that. You're just...surprisingly easy to talk to, and you needed to know about him if you're going to..." She hesitated, then quietly asked, "Are you still going to marry him?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. "Do you think he'll ever learn to stop insulting me, or is that a lost cause?"

"Of course he will!" Narcissa nodded vigorously. "As I said, I've worked hard to help him learn how to overcome his problems. I even managed to take him to St Mungo's for treatment fairly regularly over the years until V-V-"

"Voldemort," Hermione interjected gently. "You can say his name...it's safe now."

Narcissa shuddered and shook her head. "Anyway, once he's spent enough time with you, he will relax and it will be easier for him to interact more normally with you. Unfortunately, like I said, you're one of the people he has an especially hard time around. His father's brainwashing against muggle borns conflicts with everything his therapist and I have tried to teach him, so he gets flustered. His natural tendency is to not say anything to people he's uncomfortable with. In fact...don't be surprised if he goes through a period where he just won't talk to you at all. When he finally gets over the knee jerk impulse to imitate Lucius around you, he won't know what to say."

Hermione nodded slightly, thinking she had bitten off far more than she could chew. "Why didn't you just explain this to the Wizengamot? If they knew he has a mental disorder, maybe they would have let him off."

"Falsted's Disorder has never been successfully used as a defense in a criminal trial. And, well, he's extremely reluctant to let anyone know he has it. I don't think any of his friends other than Pansy are aware that he has a problem. He's always tried to pass off his difficulty interacting with others as aloofness. Since his father was such an arse, no one had any problem believing that."

"Are you sure he doesn't just take after Lucius?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Positive," Narcissa nodded, and even chuckled softly. "Lucius was fully aware of how his actions affected others, and he never showed any tenderness or empathy for anyone. Draco just didn't understand that other people had feelings when he was younger. When he's around the few people he's comfortable with, he can be extremely affectionate, and even empathetic. Like I've said, he's made a great deal of progress, though it may not seem like it to those 'on the outside,' so to speak."

"I see..." Hermione inhaled deeply, then slowly released it. "Well, we should probably go eat something, and see if we can transfigure that rag he's wearing into something more presentable before the ceremony. It's already quarter 'til two..." she added, glancing at her watch.

"So you'll do it?" Narcissa smiled brightly, then gave her a quick hug before grabbing her hand and dragging her back toward the conference room. "I promise, I won't let you regret it. Any time he gives you any trouble, feel free to come to me. I know how to deal with him." She smiled a bit smugly.

"Okay..." Hermione nodded agreeably as she struggled to keep up with Narcissa's much longer strides. Not for the first time, she cursed her petite stature, and the fact that almost everyone in the wizarding world seemed to tower over her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/16/15...again, to clear up (slightly) references to Draco having had sex. In this case, Hermione just misunderstood when he was talking about how to be a sex god in the previous chapter, and assumed he meant he had slept with at least one person.


	5. Chapter 5

When Hermione and Narcissa re-entered the conference room, Draco was slumped in his chair with his head hanging so low his chin nearly touched his chest. When he heard them come in, he swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and mumbled, "You don't have to tell me...she's gone. I really blew it. I just...I can't talk to her. I don't have a clue where to even start..." He suddenly lowered his head to the table and covered it with his arms. "I'm so fucked up, Mum. It's probably better that they're gonna kill me. You'll be better off not having to deal with me."

"Don't you ever say that!" Narcissa growled, kneeling beside him and wrapping her arms around him. "I love you, Draco...you know that. I would rather die than let anything happen to you. That's why I lied to V-v..." she glanced at Hermione and bit her lip for a moment before continuing, "Voldemort. I needed to get to you before anything happened to you, and that was all that mattered to me. So stop talking such nonsense and let me do something about that nasty thing you're wearing before Minister Shacklebolt arrives."

Draco lifted his head slightly, looking bewildered. "What's it matter what I'm wearing? They're just going to take me back to that hellhole and...and..." his lower lip trembled slightly and Hermione noticed tears staining his cheeks.

"Draco, you're not going to die..." She murmured softly, but he startled as if she'd shouted before spinning around to look at her. He nearly knocked his mother to the ground as he leapt from his seat and rushed toward Hermione.

Hermione nearly took a step back out of habit, but managed to stand her ground. He halted about a foot away, staring at her.

"You came back!" He whispered incredulously, reaching out slightly with his right hand and almost touching her arm before he stopped and quickly pulled it away. Looking away from her abruptly, he gazed at his feet and mumbled, "Does this mean you'll still marry me? I really didn't mean to insult you...again."

Hermione chuckled slightly, and was almost tempted to pat him on the arm the way she had his mother, but easily resisted the urge. "I know that now. Your mother explained about...well...you know. I understand, I think."

He peeked up at her, his cheeks a brighter pink than she would have ever thought possible. "Oh," he glanced at his mother and frowned. "I-I didn't want you to know."

"It's kind of important, don't you think?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes but smiling gently at him. "It...it explains a lot, Draco. I think it would probably help if you told more people, but I guess I understand why you don't want to."

He shrugged slightly. "I kind of prefer to keep it on a need to know basis. I guess if we're getting married, you probably do. Need to know, I mean." He looked down at his feet again, scuffing the toe of one badly worn shoe across the carpet. "Now what?"

"Now, I think we need to get you some decent clothing," Hermione frowned, noticing holes in the toes of both of his shoes. "Starting with those..." she mumbled. Pulling out her wand, she waved it over his feet and transfigured his ragged shoes into shiny, new black leather dress shoes. They were a bit plain compared to his normal footwear, but she was too nervous to attempt anything more complex.

"Thanks, Granger," Draco smiled briefly, then extended his right hand toward her slightly. Hermione frowned at it in confusion when he just held it out in front of himself, palm downward, in a manner that didn't seem to be an offer to shake hands. "M-my wrist...you wanted to...you can heal it...if you still want to."

"Oh," Hermione smiled nervously. "Um...sure..." She reached toward his sleeve, keeping an eye on his face to make sure he was okay as she slowly pulled the material up past his wrist, revealing a deep purple bruise that completely encircled his far too bony arm. There was also a nasty looking laceration across the bony protrusion on the outside of his wrist. "Merlin...those bastards!" She hissed, wincing in sympathy. Hesitating, she reached for his hand, then stopped, "Um, can you turn your hand so I can see the underside?"

"You do it," Draco grunted, and she jerked her head up with a glare at his tone. He immediately closed his eyes and sighed. "I meant...just...you can touch me. I've got to get used to you..." He opened his eyes again and smiled weakly. "I-I'm sorry...I'm trying..."

Hermione nodded, slowly released his sleeve and slid her hand down over his arm without actually touching him until she took his hand gently in her own and turned it over, releasing it immediately. He wriggled his fingers a bit after she let go, but when she glanced at his face he was still smiling, although it was a bit strained. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded briefly, then looked down at his wrist, "Ouch," he murmured flatly, wrinkling his nose, "That's gross."

Hermione followed his gaze and winced. The inside of his wrist had a long, deep laceration extending all the way across; the edges dark red and oozing. "Gods, that must really hurt!" She gasped.

Narcissa moved closer and let out a horrified squeak. "Draco, darling, why didn't you say anything about this earlier? You should have told the Aurors you needed a healer..."

"I didn't know it was so bad. The manacles were covering it up and it doesn't feel as bad as it looks." He shrugged sheepishly. "I didn't really notice it until they took the damn things off. "

Hermione raised an eyebrow and bit back a scathing comment about Buckbeak only through a supreme effort of will. "I think it's infected. I might have some dittany..." She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her old beaded bag, which she had gotten into the habit of carrying at all times, keeping it shrunk down for easier transport.

"What is that?" Draco asked, watching curiously as she returned it to its usual size and reached in up to her elbow, rooting around for the small jar she was pretty sure still contained some healing salve.

"This is how Harry, Ron and I survived for a year on the run," Hermione smirked. Peering into the bag, she sighed impatiently, put the bag on the table and shoved her wand into its depths. " _Accio dittany_!" She called, and the little brown jar immediately flew into the palm of her other hand. "Ah, I knew it was in there somewhere..." She smiled triumphantly and unscrewed the lid. After scooping out a glob of the creamy white salve with her fingers, she reached for Draco's hand, and then froze.

"Go ahead," he mumbled when she peeked up at his face. He looked paler than normal again, but he thrust his hand toward her and seemed to brace himself.

Hermione nodded and very carefully dabbed the salve all over the cut. She had scooped up so much of the thick ointment that her fingers never actually made contact with his skin, but he was still shaking by the time the wound was covered.  
"Um, could you flip it over? My hand's too slippery," she mumbled, not wanting to stress him out more than she had to. After he obeyed, she spread more cream over the smaller cut on the back of his wrist. This time, her fingertips touched him, and his hand jerked slightly. "I'm sorry...almost done..." She murmured, quickly smearing the last bit of ointment over the bruised area around his wrist and pulling her hand back as if she'd been burned. She and Draco both exhaled loudly, and then glanced shyly at each other.

Narcissa chuckled. "Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She asked cheerfully. Hermione grinned sheepishly, but Draco bit his lip. "Draco, you did fine..."

"It's not that..." he replied, shifting his weight nervously. Reluctantly, he put out his other hand and pulled back his sleeve, revealing nearly identical injuries. "We're not done, and...no offense, but I don't know if my nerves can take any more." He wrinkled his nose, then smiled apologetically at Hermione. "It's not you, it's just..."

"I get it," Hermione interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. Turning to Narcissa, she held out the jar and said, "I should go find a restroom and try to freshen up a bit anyway. Could you finish helping him get ready? Kingsley will probably be here any minute..."

Narcissa smiled gratefully and took the jar, "Of course, dear. Do you mind if I do something about your attire?" She gestured at Hermione's white sleeveless blouse and jeans. "I'm rather good at transfiguring clothing..."

"Oh," Hermione glanced down at her outfit, which was, she had to admit, probably far too casual even for court, let alone her own wedding. She had deliberately dressed in the most muggle-like style possible, foolishly thinking it might help if she emphasized that she was a muggle born when she testified on Draco's behalf. So much for that. "Yes, please." She grinned sheepishly.

Narcissa smiled happily and pulled out her wand. Closing her eyes, she waved her hand back and forth over Hermione, and the blouse immediately grew longer, the bottom extending down until it brushed the top of her brown ballet flats. The fabric changed from plain white cotton to a rich ivory silk, and the material around her her waist drew inward, hugging her curves as the front opening fused together, the buttons and collar disappearing completely, leaving a simple scooped neckline trimmed with small pearlescent beads. She felt an odd tightening sensation around her legs, but it quickly faded. Curious, she lifted the newly formed skirt of her dress and peeked at her legs. Her jeans had become sheer white stockings, which looked rather funny next to her still brown leather flats.

"Oops...can't have that..." Narcissa giggled and waved her wand again.

"Ah!" Hermione yelped and almost fell over when her shoes turned into ivory satin heels, throwing her completely off balance.

"Whoa!" Draco stepped forward and caught her by the arm before she could hit the floor. "Mother, a little warning might be nice," he chided gently after setting Hermione upright and quickly releasing her.

"Sorry dear," Narcissa winced. "I guess I got a little carried away..."

"No, this is perfect, I just wasn't expecting it," Hermione laughed nervously, feeling extremely out of place wearing a wedding gown, albeit a tastefully modest one, here in a tiny conference room in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. "Thank you, Missus Malfoy. I'm just going to go try to find a restroom and try to do something about my hair."

"Mum..." Draco shot his mother an expectant look. She frowned confusedly at him. "Aunt Bella's spell..."

Narcissa's frown darkened for a moment at the mention of her sister, but she nodded a bit reluctantly and raised her wand again, " _Intenglio_!" She chanted, flicking her wrist at Hermione's head.

Hermione flinched at first, then frowned confusedly when nothing seemed to happen. "What was that?"

Draco snickered and reached out, gently pulling a thick lock of hair forward over her shoulder. It was now completely straight, and her jaw dropped. "Aunt Bella had crazy curls, too, you know. My grandmother Druella invented that spell for her when she was young and still cared what she looked like. I thought you might like it."

"I do," Hermione nodded, beaming at him unconsciously as she ran her fingers through her hair in awe. With the curl removed, it hung perfectly straight, smooth and shiny all the way to her waist. "Wow, I didn't even realize it was so long..."

"Curls will do that," Narcissa chuckled, then made shooing motions. "Run along and freshen up while I try to make this one look slightly respectable." She grinned at Draco, who grunted softly and rolled his eyes.

Hermione chuckled and opened the door, nearly running into Kingsley, who was standing with his fist raised, just about to knock. "Ah!"

"Oh!" The big man yelped comically, jerking his hand back just before he struck her in the face. "Sorry! Wasn't expecting you there..."

Hermione giggled, "I should hope you weren't planning to knock on my forehead!" she teased. Stepping into the corridor, she closed the door behind her. "Narcissa's changing his clothes." She explained when he shot her a questioning look.

"Isn't he old enough to do that himself?" The Minister quipped, smirking.

"Um...probably," Hermione nodded, grinning mischievously. "I meant changing his clothes into something nicer. He doesn't have his wand..."

"Oh, right." Kingsley nodded understandingly. Looking down at her gown, he murmured, "Nice dress, by the way. You almost look like you'd actually planned to get married today." He grinned teasingly.

"Well, this was also Narcissa's handiwork, and I suspect she's probably put a lot of thought into how she would like her son's bride to be dressed." She giggled again, thinking she'd been doing that far too much in the last several minutes. "Gods, I'm nervous..."

"That's probably the understatement of the century," Kingsley muttered. "I think this answers, definitively, the question of how you ended up in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. You're very brave to do this for someone like Malfoy. I know it was hard for you to even come up with something to say in his defense today."

"Um...he's not as bad as I thought," Hermione shrugged, sorely tempted to tell him what she now knew about her future husband. However, she knew Draco would probably never forgive her for revealing his secret to someone he barely knew; especially such an important public figure.

"Well...I really do hope the two of you don't kill each other," Kingsley said, seriously. "If there was anything else I could do to avoid that ridiculous sentence..." He shook his head frustratedly. "I'm going to work on instituting an appeals process in our legal system, but even if I'm successful it's going to take far too long to have helped Draco. You really are saving his life."

"I-I know," Hermione smiled awkwardly, uncomfortable with his repeated praise. "Um...if you'll excuse me, I think I need to go pee or puke or something..." she blurted, suddenly feeling as if either one (or both) could be imminent.

"Loo's that way!" Kingsley immediately jabbed his thumb in the opposite direction from the courtroom and stepped out of her way as she bolted down the hall, wobbling in her high heeled shoes.

She found the correct door just in time and rushed into a stall, slamming the door shut behind her just before her stomach heaved violently. Luckily, she hadn't eaten anything that day, so despite the fact that it was rather painful, she was relieved when nothing came up. Taking deep breaths to calm her nerves, she finally felt confident that she wasn't going to vomit. Shakily rising to her feet, she anxiously checked to be sure she hadn't dirtied her dress before relieving her bladder.

After leaving the cramped stall, she wobbled to the sink to wash her hands. Frowning at her feet, she reached for her wand and then had a moment of panic when she realized she was no longer wearing her jeans (and therefore the pocket her wand had been in) Patting her right thigh where her pocket had been, she sighed with relief and reached under her skirt to pull her wand from the top of her thigh-high stocking. After concentrating a moment, she waved it at her shoes and sighed happily as the heels slowly shrunk down to a much more manageable height of about three centimeters. "Sorry, Missus Malfoy, but I can't marry your damn son if I break my neck trying to walk down the aisle..." she muttered under her breath.

After washing her hands, she finally glanced up at the mirror and gasped at her reflection. With her hair released from its usual wild tangle of curls, she looked like a completely different person. She would almost say she was pretty. Scooping her long, silky chestnut locks up in her hands, she held it back from her face and liked the effect, so she twirled it into a half twist with long tresses cascading down along one side of her neck. Conjuring a few rhinestone hair pins, she secured it in place, tucking her wand back in her stocking for lack of anywhere else to put it. Satisfied with her appearance, she splashed a bit of water on her face and then dried herself with a small hand towel. One nice thing about the wizarding world...one didn't have to struggle with the tiny squares of harsh brown paper towels in public restrooms used in most muggle facilities.

"Okay, no more stalling...pull yourself together and go face this like the Gryffindor that moronic hat thinks you are..." she mumbled, taking a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and marching out of the room, down the hall, and back to the conference room. Taking another breath, she plastered the most confident smile she could manage on her face and flung open the door, only to find the room empty.

Her shoulders slumped and her smile faded in her confusion. Realization finally sunk in after a moment, and she glanced toward the courtroom. "Alright...just try not to trip..." she sighed as she started down the hallway. Remembering at the last second to stand up straight again, she opened the door with quite a bit less poise and confidence than she had mustered back at the conference room. Apparently her reserves of each were rather limited.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...I've never tried to write marriage vows that were supposed to be awkward, slightly sweet but not romantic. Hope it came out alright!
> 
> And, yeah, I tend to follow the theory that Dorea Black Potter was Harry's grandmother. If nothing else, it helps give Harry and Draco a reason to try not to kill each other. We'll just say Draco didn't know about her because Narcissa didn't talk much about the disowned Blacks when Lucius was alive.

"Ah, here she is," Kingsley's voice echoed slightly in the mostly empty courtroom. Hermione eased her way around the door and found the Minister and Draco standing in front of the desk Kingsley had sat behind during the trial. Narcissa had done quite a number on her son. His hair and skin were now clean, though his hair was still a bit shaggy. The rotting rags he'd been wearing earlier had been transformed into fitted charcoal gray formal robes. He was still pale (with a slight greenish tinge) and he jumped slightly at Kingsley's words.

Narcissa stood facing the two men, slightly to their left. Unexpectedly, Harry and nearly all of the Weasleys except for Charlie and Percy were standing to their right. The family had left a wide space between themselves and Narcissa that Hermione hoped was meant to act as the "aisle" and not an indication of continuing animosity between her adopted family and Draco's.

"Wow!" George gasped, giving her one of the first smiles she had seen from him since Fred's death. "'Mione looks like a girl!"

"Hush, you!" Molly scolded quietly, slapping him in the chest with the back of her hand while smiling proudly at Hermione.

"I'm afraid we don't have any music for you, Miss Granger," Kingsley grinned, beckoning her closer. "You'll just have to pretend..."

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to march toward the front of the room in an exaggerated, playful manner. Both Malfoys and all of the Weasleys looked a bit confused, but Harry just laughed and began humming the traditional muggle wedding march, which made Hermione break down in giggles. She made it only halfway across the room before she she was laughing so hysterically she had to stop marching and just walk normally. Harry kept humming, albeit more quickly, until she reached Draco and Kingsley.

"What the hell was all that about?" Draco whispered, frowning confusedly.

"It's a Muggle thing," Hermione giggled, trying to pull herself together. Now that she was on the verge of actually going through with the ceremony, her nerves were completely frazzled. She had a feeling that if she wasn't laughing so much she would probably be sobbing in a corner or under a table somewhere.

"Are you alright?" Kingsley asked worriedly.

"No," She chortled, then tried again to control her laughter, managing to stop long enough to say, "Yes," before laughing again. Shaking her head, she squeaked, "No...just get it over with," before clamping one hand over her mouth and making a vague gesture with the other for him to proceed.

"Okaaaaay, then..." Kingsley shook his head bemusedly before picking up a scroll from the desk behind him. Exhaling loudly, he shook his head again as Narcissa let out a quiet sob. "Alright, I'm going to make this as short and...uh...sweet as possible. You're all here to witness the marriage of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger..." he trailed off and shook his head yet again, quietly muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Merlin that sounds strange..." before clearing his throat and continuing at his normal booming volume, "If anyone has any objections...well...tough, we're not accepting those today, given the circumstances."

At this, Ron let out an odd choking sound, but a quick glare from Kingsley immediately silenced him.

"So, Draco, do you take this woman as your wife, binding yourself to her by vow, blood, magic and the exchanging of rings; promising to do everything in your power to make this marriage work or else accept all of the consequences we agreed to earlier?"

Draco swallowed nervously, glanced at Hermione and quickly nodded his head.

"You have to say it," Kingsley said impatiently, his expression just shy of terrifying.

"I-I do!" Draco croaked, then cleared his throat and added, "I do...Sir," in a slightly more normal tone.

Hermione giggled helplessly, then slapped her hand over her mouth again when Kingsley turned toward her. She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her, staggered slightly and suddenly realized she had been holding her breath since she entered the room. To her surprise, Draco reached over and gently grasped her elbow, steadying her for a moment while she sucked in a few quick breaths.

"Are you alright?" Kingsley asked again, his voice and expression much gentler than a moment before.

"Mmm-hmm," Hermione hummed affirmatively, not trusting her voice.

"Alright then, do you take this man to be your husband, binding yourself to him by law, blood, magic and the exchanging of rings; promising to do everything in your power to make this marriage work or else accept the consequence we agreed to earlier?"

"I-I do," Hermione squeaked.

"Why does she have consequences?" Ron muttered a bit loudly. Molly promptly elbowed him in the ribs and he wheezed loudly. "Ow, Mum! I was just asking..." He whined.

"Mister Weasley, do shut up," Kingsley growled threateningly. Ginny snickered and the Minister quickly silenced her with another of his frightening scowls. "Alright then..." pulling out his wand, he quickly conjured a small silver goblet, which made Hermione frown in confusion. Seeing her expression, Kingsley lowered his voice and said, "You have to exchange blood..."

"Eww!" Hermione wrinkled her nose, unconsciously jerking away from Draco. He casually stepped on her foot, increasing the pressure until she gasped in pain.  
  
"Mister Malfoy..." Kingsley growled threateningly, and he let up, somewhat. "Are you alright?" Kingsley asked Hermione again for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

"Y-yes..." Hermione stammered, wanting to rub her foot but afraid that if she did Draco would immediately be pummeled to death by a half dozen or so red-heads. "It's just...eww..."

"Welcome to the wizarding world, Granger," Draco whispered sarcastically, but when she turned to glare at him, he flashed her a sympathetic smile, which completely threw her for a loop; so much so that when Kingsley asked her to hold out her hand, she did so without even thinking about why he would make such a request.

"Owww!" She yelped when a quick, stabbing pain shot through her thumb. She quickly looked down and swayed at the sight of large drops of blood dribbling into the goblet. "Oh gods..."

"Please don't faint," Draco murmured, touching her elbow again, though not for as long as he did before. "Or puke..." he added, going slightly green again himself when Kingsley swirled the contents of the goblet and held it out to him.

"Ditto," Hermione muttered, grimacing as the blond reluctantly accepted the cup, took a deep breath and then quickly gulped down a large swig.

"Gahhhh," he shuddered, wiping his free hand over his lips. An ominous stillness swept over the red-headed portion of the gathering, and he slowly lowered his hand, giving them an indignant look. "Oh, come on...I didn't mean it that way! You lot try drinking blood and see how you like it."

"Ewww..." Hermione moaned softly at the mere thought, and just then Kingsley took the goblet from Draco and held it toward her. "Oh gods..." she whimpered, but took it reluctantly, screwed her eyes shut and took a small sip. The coppery taste wasn't as bad as she had feared, but the thick texture was truly disgusting, and her stomach lurched threateningly.

"All of it..." Kingsley murmured reluctantly, refusing to look her in the eye when she shot him the most scathing glare she could muster before somehow choking down the remaining spoonful or so of blood in the cup.

"I hate you," she growled, practically throwing the cup at Kingsley, who just barely caught it before it struck him in the face, drawing soft laughter from George, and, unexpectedly, Arthur.

"Hermione!" Molly scolded in a loud whisper, which just made Bill, Fleur and Ginny join in the laughter.

"Can you blame her, dear?" Arthur murmured quietly, placating his wife before winking surreptitiously at Hermione.

"Is the marriage void if I throw up?" Hermione whimpered, clutching her stomach.

"You're not going to throw up," Kingsley said. It came out more like an order than a reassurance.

"You just need to eat something," Draco murmured soothingly out of the side of his mouth. Kingsley and Hermione both stared at him for a moment. "Can we just finish this?" He asked a bit petulantly.

"Alright," Kingsley drawled. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a long white ribbon. "I need your hands..."

Hermione winced on Draco's behalf as he slowly extended his hand toward Kingsley. He was shaking visibly from head to toe.

Tilting his head confusedly at Draco's behavior, Kingsley took Hermione's right hand and turned it palm down, placing it on top of Draco's left, which he'd turned palm up. Taking the ribbon, he looped it around their wrists and wove the ends up their forearms in a crisscrossed pattern. Hermione could feel Draco's palm sweating profusely against her own and shot him a sympathetic smile before surreptitiously pulling her arm as far from his as the ribbon would allow in an attempt to relieve his discomfort.

Completely oblivious to the trauma he was subjecting Draco to, Kingsley smiled and declared, "May this ribbon represent the weaving together of Draco and Hermione's magic. As long as they remain united, may they find strength in each other. As long as they are faithful to each other, may they each gain power from the other. May their marriage be long, happy and fruitful, and may no one rend this union asunder!"

Upon finishing this speech, Kingsley waved his wand over their hands in a series of intricate motions and Hermione knew he was casting the spells that would bind them for at least the next year. She watched in awe as the ribbon began to glow brightly and then seemed to be absorbed into their skin, leaving behind a silvery celtic knot-like design around both of their wrists.

As soon as the ribbon vanished, Hermione felt a strange surge of energy pass through her. Noticing that he was still trembling, she quickly removed her hand from Draco's. He swayed slightly when she pulled away.

Hermione shot a suspicious look at Kingsley, who seemed to deliberately avoid her gaze, asking, "I don't suppose anyone happens to have an extra pair of wedding rings?"

"I do!" Narcissa exclaimed triumphantly.

Hermione and Draco exchanged glances while Narcissa quickly pulled a long silver necklace from inside her robes. Sure enough, a pair of simple platinum bands dangled from the chain. "Do you wear those all the time, Mum?" Draco asked, looking bewildered. "I didn't know you were that eager to marry me off."

George cackled at this but Narcissa just let out a delicate snort. "They belonged to my parents. I wear them in their memory, but it seems fitting that I pass them on to you now, ingrate that you may be." She winked teasingly and Draco blushed sheepishly.

"Serendipity!" Kingsley chuckled. Taking the rings from Narcissa, he handed the smaller of the two to Draco. "I know this is extremely short notice, but if you have any words you'd like to say..."

Draco took the ring, turning it over and over in his hands for so long that Hermione was startled when he finally cleared his throat and gingerly placed the ring at the tip of her left ring finger, being careful not to touch her. "I know we haven't gotten along in the past..." he paused as a few quiet (and some not so quiet) chuckles and snickers broke out amongst their younger observers. Once Kingsley and Molly had scared everyone back into submission, he continued, "I don't know how this is going to work out. Whatever lies ahead, good or bad, I hope we can face it together. Life will probably test us..." he glanced at Kingsley out of the corner of his eye and gulped nervously. "But if we look to each other, I hope from now on, we will each see a friend. Please accept this ring and wear it as my w-wife." Exhaling softly, he pushed the ring onto her finger and looked up tentatively. "Was that okay?"

Hermione gulped loudly then glanced around at the stunned faces surrounding them. Even Narcissa looked shocked. "No, that wasn't okay, you git," she whispered, frowning. Draco took a step back and she let out a chuckle. "How the hell am I supposed to follow that?" She demanded, hand on her hip as she pouted teasingly. "Honestly?"

"Sorry?" Draco grinned back apologetically. "Want me to take it back?"

"Just shut up and let me think," Hermione closed her eyes, trying to ignore the giggles and whispers behind her as she struggled to think of the right words. Some way to tell him that she was determined to make this work out somehow, without any silly promises to love or cherish him, which could only come out sounding hollow and meaningless. She tried to remember something appropriate from the time she'd helped her cousin Gillian plan her wedding a few years back.

"Sometime today..." Kingsley murmured quietly after a few minutes.

"Okay," Hermione held out her hand and Kingsley handed her Draco's ring. She shot the blond an expectant look and he held out his left hand. Slipping it onto his third finger, she held the ring in place on his first knuckle without touching his skin. Staring at his hand, afraid to look him in the eye, she quietly said, "What words can I offer you? The promise to stand by your side, to listen when you speak, to comfort you when you cry, and, hopefully, to sometimes join your laughter with my own. Today, I join my life to yours, not just as your wife, but as your partner, your confidant, and I hope someday, your friend. I hope that you can let me be the shoulder you lean on, the rock on which you rest, and the companion of your life. Take this ring, and be my husband." She shoved the ring further on Draco's finger with trembling hands, then risked a peek up at his face.

He was staring at her with an odd sort of flabbergasted smirk, if such a thing was even possible. Just as Narcissa and Molly let out simultaneous sniffles, he leaned forward slightly and whispered, "I guess there's something to be said for getting the final word, eh Granger?"

Hermione grinned triumphantly. "I try..."

Just then, Kingsley seemed to shake himself out of a mild daze. Turning to the Weasleys and then Narcissa, he announced, "I now present Mister and Missus Draco Malfoy!" Turning to Draco, he mumbled, "You might want to kiss your wife."

Hermione shook her head frantically, for one thing, she really didn't want to, but mostly she was worried that Draco might actually have a nervous breakdown if he was forced into such intimate contact. Shocking her, Draco leaned over and brushed his lips lightly against her cheek, whispering, "Thank you, Granger."

The Weasleys (except for Ron) complained teasingly that it wasn't much of a kiss, but a seething glare from Hermione quickly shut them up. Molly, Arthur, Ginny and Harry all braved her temper to rush forward with a mix of congratulations and sympathetic hugs.

Harry then offered his hand to Draco who shook it very briefly but smiled gratefully at his former rival. "Thank you for testifying for me, Potter."

"No problem," Harry shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry it didn't help." Grinning apologetically at Hermione, he said, "Maybe it won't be so bad?"

"It's not the end of the world. I'd much rather have to kiss Granger than a dementor," Draco grinned faintly, shrugging carelessly.

Hermione snorted lightly. "Wow! I think that's actually the nicest thing you've ever said about me!" She exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

"He'll be working on that, dear," Narcissa spoke up, stepping in to hug her son and then putting her arm around Hermione while Draco began talking quietly with Kingsley. Leaning in, she whispered, "Minister Shacklebolt did you a favor. More so than he probably intended. The ritual he used was created back when arranged marriages were the norm, so it's meant to help couples bond to each other more quickly. The spells involved are going to make Draco feel stronger, and therefore safer, whenever he's near or touching you. It's going to help immensely with making him more comfortable around you."

"I knew it!" Hermione hissed loudly, drawing strange looks from everyone but Kingsley, who just looked guilty. "How dare he manipulate us like that?"

"He was trying to help ensure the success of your marriage, and thus save Draco's life, and your magic," Narcissa whispered once the others had looked away. "Like I said, he did you a favor."

Hermione flushed guiltily. "I suppose so. It still feels like he's trying to force false emotions on us or something."

"The spell can't create emotions, it just helps nurture a sense of security in each other's presence," Narcissa patted her on the back sympathetically.

Just then, Draco walked back over to them, holding up his wand with a smile. "Well, it's official. I'm a free man!" He announced happily. Turning to Hermione, he briefly touched her arm. "Thank you again. I can't believe you agreed to give me this chance after everything I've done to you. You are truly a goddess."

"Keep saying things like that, and this might work." Hermione replied, blushing.

Narcissa let out a delighted squeal and clapped her hands excitedly. "This definitely calls for a celebration!" Raising her voice, she turned to the Weasleys, who had been slowly creeping toward the exit. They all jumped, but she ignored them, and exclaimed, "I'd like to invite you all to join us for a feast to honor my  lovely new daughter. I know things have been far less than pleasant between our families in the past, but I would like to try to move past all of that." Turning to Harry, she smiled sheepishly and said, "I'd especially like to mend the relationship between my cousin and myself."

"Your cousin?" Harry croaked, his eyebrows disappearing beneath his shaggy fringe. "Me?"

"Your grandmother was my great aunt...Dorea Black Potter." Narcissa nodded a bit tearfully. "You and I are second cousins once removed...or something like that. I'm afraid aunt Dorea was shunned by the family after she and your grandfather Charlus allowed Sirius to stay with them when he was disowned."

"So...we're related?" Harry mumbled dazedly, then blinked and smiled happily. "I have relatives! You, Draco, and..." he trailed off awkwardly.

"My sister Andromeda," Narcissa nodded slightly, then sighed. "I believe you were close to my niece, Nymphadora before she died. Perhaps you can tell me about her someday."

Harry nodded sadly, then brightened slightly. "So, Teddy...he's my distant cousin, too. And so was Sirius."

"Yes. He left the family estate to you because you are a Black, whether the rest of the family wanted to acknowledge it or not," Narcissa stated emphatically. "That's also, partially, why I lied to Voldemort. Blood is thicker than...uh...abject terror." She shrugged sheepishly. "I don't have enough family left to just toss them to wolves. Or should I say the snakes?" She asked, chuckling lightly

Hermione had listened to this exchange in utter fascination, and smiled tearfully when Harry hesitantly moved forward and offered Narcissa a shy hug. The older witch let out a choked sob and embraced him tightly, promising, "I'm going to apologize to my sister, and if she can forgive me, we'll get all of the remaining Blacks together for a proper reunion as soon as possible, right Draco?"

Draco smiled fondly at his mother and then patted Harry briefly on the shoulder. "I guess if we're cousins and you're my wife's best friend, we ought to try to be friends, eh, Potter?"

Harry pretended to think it over, then grinned and offered his hand to Draco, "I'd like that."

When Draco shook her friend's hand again, slightly longer this time, Hermione's fragile hold on her emotions finally shattered. Her throat suddenly seemed to close over as she choked back a sob and her eyes flooded with tears. Staggering to the nearest chair, which happened to be the one Draco had been chained to earlier, she buried her face in her hands and wept.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Harry murmured soothingly as he knelt beside her. She felt several hands on her back and shoulders. "Please don't cry..."

The show of sympathy only made her cry harder, despite the fact things weren't going as horribly as she'd imagined.

"I think it's finally sunk in that she's stuck with me," she heard Draco murmur unhappily. "No wonder she's miserable."

Hermione feebly shook her head, still unable to speak.

"I think she's just a little overwhelmed," Harry replied, sounding a bit uncertain.

Hermione nodded.

"Let's just get her home," Narcissa chimed in. "A good nap will probably do her wonders."

"A nap?" Ron snorted skeptically, "In the house she was tortured horribly in a few months ago?"

"Ron!" Hermione heard Ginny hiss followed by a muffled thud.

"It's alright. I understand. We're no longer living in the Manor," Narcissa replied, her tone a bit cooler than it had been all day. "I've moved back into my childhood home here in London. I want nothing to do with my husband's family home."

"Thank Merlin," Draco murmured softly. "I don't ever want to go back there."

"It's settled then," Narcissa said firmly. "Molly, floo me later, and we'll make arrangements for a celebration dinner later this week. I think it is definitely time to wrap things up for the day. Draco looks like he's going to drop any minute..."

"I'm fine," Draco protested. His voice cracked, making his argument rather unconvincing.

"No, you're not," Narcissa replied. "Do you think you can take your wife side-along or shall I?"

"I haven't been there since I was seven," Draco admitted sheepishly. "I barely remember it."

"Good point," Narcissa giggled. "Well, grab my hand and I'll take you both..." a warm hand gently grasped Hermione's wrist. "Can you stand, Darling? Just for a few minutes..."

Hermione nodded and mumbled, "I'm sorry," as she pulled herself to her feet. "I don't know what came over me..."

"You've had a hell of a day," Harry said quietly. "Go get some rest and I'll floo you later," he promised, kissing her gently on the cheek.

The Weasleys and Kingsley all murmured quiet goodbyes and Narcissa announced, "The floo address is Rosier Court," before Hermione felt the familiar tug of apparation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (7/7/15) Editing note: I changed up Draco's vows a bit while writing the epilogue because they really just made my skin crawl the way I had them originally. They still don't sound spontaneous enough for me, but I think both characters are more well spoken than I'll ever be, so...
> 
> Edited 7/16/15 to fix some of the excessive touching. lol


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione stumbled slightly upon arriving, and found herself standing in a large, airy foyer. Bright sunlight poured in through gauzy white curtains covering floor to ceiling windows on either side of a pair of large, double doors with frosted glass windows. Matching, spindly-legged side tables on either side of the room held antique lamps and assorted knickknacks, as well as delicate potted orchids, which filled the air with their light floral scent.

While Hermione had landed somewhat gracefully, Draco staggered and fell to his knees on the white marble floor.

Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed, releasing Hermione's wrist and crouching beside her son. "Are you alright, Sweetheart? Do you need a healer?" She ran her hands lightly over his torso as she spoke, and Hermione couldn't help but notice that Draco never so much as flinched at his mother's touch.

"I'm alright," he muttered embarrassedly, waving her away. "I just need to eat something," he mumbled, standing up and grumpily brushing himself off.

"I'll say so," Narcissa clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "You look like a skeleton!"

Hermione silently agreed. Now that she had a chance to really look him over in the fitted robes Narcissa had transfigured for their wedding ceremony, she realized he was even thinner than she'd first thought in the courtroom that morning. His face looked fairly normal (for him), but when she looked closer she realized there was a glamour in place around his eyes and cheeks. Narcissa had obviously tried to hide his dark circles and exaggerated cheekbones.

"Azkaban isn't exactly famous for it's fine cuisine," Draco mumbled, looking embarrassed. "We were lucky if they remembered to feed us every day."

"Well, we'll get you fattened up again in no time, Sweetheart," Narcissa smiled fondly at him, hooking her arm through his. Turning to Hermione, she held out her free hand, "Come along, Darling. You didn't eat lunch, either. After tea I'll show you two to your room."

"Room? Don't you mean rooms?" Hermione asked anxiously, planting her feet before Narcissa could lead them through the wide archway that opened into the home's main corridor.

"Mum! We can't-" Draco started, eyes wide. "I can't-" He looked as though she'd suggested he sleep in a shark tank. Even knowing about his condition, Hermione couldn't help feeling mildly insulted.

"You. Are. Married," Narcissa said slowly, nodding emphatically with each word as if she was speaking to a small child. "How long did the Ministry give you to consummate your marriage?"

"T-two weeks," Draco stammered. Glancing at Hermione, he lowered his voice, but she could still make out his pleading whisper, " But Mum...I-I can't..." He was shaking again.

"Draco," Hermione interrupted, trying to sound as kind as possible despite the fact she'd already reached her limit of patience for the day. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. Kingsley likes me...I'm pretty sure as long as we can show you're trying to improve your attitude, we can probably get some kind of extension."

"I'm pretty sure if Higgleton has any say...and he does...I'll be a dead man if you even suggest such a thing," Draco shook his head, looking truly terrified. Narcissa gently patted his arm, trying to sooth him, but he continued to tremble violently. "It's not...please don't think it's you. I've never..."

Hermione frowned. "Except for that one girl...you said...you can be a sex god without sleeping with more than one person..."

"I never said I actually had. I just wanted you to think that," he muttered bitterly. "I didn't think you were gonna actually agree to this and I didn't want to let on that I'm a total freak!" His voice rose to a shout and he angrily knocked a rather ornate crystal vase off one of the side tables, sending it to the floor where it shattered into glittering dust.

"Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed, sounding equally frustrated and worried.

"Reparo," Hermione fixed the vase with a casual swish of her wand. Turning to her new husband, she put her hands on her hips and firmly declared, "I don't want this anymore than you do, but getting mad and breaking things won't help. I think the best thing to do is eat, try to get some rest, and then work out how we're going to get you more comfortable around me. I mean, we've got two whole weeks to come up with something. Maybe a calming draught? Numbing potion? Oysters and firewhiskey? Bag over my head?" She grinned slightly, hoping to lighten the mood.

Draco stared at her for a moment, then laughed weakly. "I promise that last one isn't the issue. I can't explain what it's like...being touched..." he shuddered as he spoke, as though an insect was crawling up his back. "It's not just you, it's almost everyone." He glanced pointedly at his mother. 

"I understand," Hermione smiled sympathetically. "We'll figure something out, I promise. For now, let's just eat..." she looked questioningly at Narcissa, who smiled gratefully.

"Yes, there's no need to worry about it right this minute," she declared, though there was a thoughtful glint in her eye that gave away the fact that she was trying to figure out a solution. "I'll have Tibby serve tea in the solarium. Draco, can you escort Hermione there while I go to the kitchen?"

"Mother, you don't need to go to the kitchen to request tea," Draco rolled his eyes but smiled slightly at his mother's transparent attempt to leave them alone together.

"Humor me," Narcissa smirked. "In case you've forgotten, the solarium is off the library."

Hermione lifted her head slightly at this, and Draco snorted softly. "We'll never get her to eat now, Mum."

"I'm not that bad," Hermione protested.

"Whatever," Draco shrugged slightly, then jerked his head toward the archway. "C'mon, Granger."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes disapprovingly, probably at her son's poor manners, but she said nothing. Nodding politely to Hermione, she passed through the archway and turned left, her footsteps quickly fading off into the distance.

Hermione shifted her weight nervously as Draco just stood there staring after his mother. "Um...so...solarium?" She asked after almost a minute had passed.

"This way. I think," Draco smiled wryly and pointed toward the right as they walked through the archway.

They passed under another arch and entered a short hallway lined with portraits of elegantly dressed men and women who began whispering to each other after they moved on. Draco was walking very slowly and Hermione wasn't sure if he was trying to give her a chance to look around or if he was simply too tired to move any faster. She was afraid it was the latter.

They soon made a left turn, passing several large, brightly lit rooms on the right hand side. The hallway itself was like something out of a museum dedicated to Victorian family life. The walls were papered in a smoky blue silk and the gleaming hardwood floors were stained a rich cherry color that matched the wainscoting and trim. Hermione realized that, unlike the grand marble-floored foyer, this was a more private, 'family only,' part of the house. It felt strange to be there with Draco, especially knowing that as his wife, she did, in fact, belong in this part of the house.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face because Draco suddenly asked, "What's wrong? You look like you're trying to translate a very obscure rune."

"I just realized I'm...a Malfoy," she explained quietly. "And I...I guess I actually live here now. I'll have to get my things from the Burrow."

"Oh,right." Draco pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I didn't think about that. We'll send Tibby to get your things after tea."

Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to object. "I am perfectly capable-"

"So is Tibby," Draco cut her off. "And she has been rattling around in this big old house for over ten years with no wizards to serve. She's been waiting for someone to take care of...to feel useful again. Let her help you."

"She's been here alone?" Hermione asked. "The poor thing!"

"When my grandparents passed away, Mother inherited the house, but Father wouldn't let her spend any time here. She didn't want to bring Tibby, who was her family's elf to the Manor and subject her to Father's temper, but when she tried to free her, she begged her to let her stay here. Her family has served Mum's here at Rosier Court for several generations. It would have been cruel to turn her out. Mother let her stay in hopes that I might have children to pass the house to some day," Draco explained flatly. It was as if he was talking about the weather rather than the undoubtedly painful subjects of his Father and his own potential to ever be one himself.

"I didn't realize wizard families and elf families were so loyal to each other," Hermione admitted guiltily. "No one ever told me that."

"Luckily for...everyone, not all families are as fucked up as the Malfoys and Blacks. The Rosiers were more typical." Draco shrugged. "Old fashioned, but not as cruel." She knew he meant his father and Bellatrix. It was the first time he'd acknowledged his family's treatment of her in any way, and Hermione struggled not to react negatively, fearing he would never open up to her again.

"I see," she smiled at a portrait of a little girl with long, curly blonde hair who waved merrily as they walked by. "It's a lovely home, so far," she commented, trying to keep their conversation flowing.

"Well, if you like the hallway, you're really gonna love this..." Draco smirked slightly as he pushed open one side of a pair of massive double doors. Gesturing for her to precede him, he stepped back to allow her to enter.

Hermione moved forward eagerly, knowing they must have reached the library. The sight awaiting her inside literally took her breath away. Highly polished cherry bookcases covered three walls from floor to ceiling, and even the fourth wall had shelves between the four large arched windows and a wide archway leading to what must be the solarium. "Oh my goodness!" She breathed, stepping forward and turning in a slow circle, staring at the largest collection of books she'd seen outside of Hogwarts. "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed, finally tearing her eyes from the shelves to look at Draco.

He was watching her closely but looked away as soon as her eyes settled on him. "I'm glad you like it," he replied, smiling slightly. "Perhaps you'll help me when I move the Malfoy collection here? I plan to sell the Manor, but I want to keep a lot of its contents. The uncursed contents, that is," he amended sheepishly.

"How could you fit more books in here?!" Hermione asked incredulously.

"If I remember right, there is a large sitting room on the other side of that wall," he pointed behind her. "We'll tear it out and expand into that room." He shrugged slightly. "The Malfoy collection isn't as large as this and I'm sure there are duplicates, so there should be enough room." Frowning thoughtfully, he asked, "How big is your collection? I suppose we can also expand into the storage room on the other side if necessary..." he mumbled under his breath as he looked over his shoulder at the wall behind him.

Hermione chuckled. "As much as I love books, I haven't been able to collect as many as I'd like. My books would only take up a case like that..." she pointed to one tall narrow bookcase between two of the windows.

"Well, next week, after you've read your way through all of these, I'll have your name added to my Gringotts account so you can buy Flourish and Blott's," Draco grinned teasingly.

Hermione stiffened slightly. "You don't have to do that. Give me money, I mean. It's not like we're really married. I have my own money..."

"It is very much like we are really married, Granger," Draco sighed. "I know this isn't like all your childhood hopes and dreams, but you're stuck with me now. You heard the conditions. If this doesn't work out..." he was starting to shake again.

"I know all of that!" Hermione exclaimed. "I just meant...you don't love me. You don't have to give me things like a...a real husband would."

"What if I want to?" Draco asked quietly. "No, I don't love you. I don't even know what that feels like. But you saved my life. You gave up your chance for a real marriage someday for me...after how I treated you. I don't love you, but you're just about my favorite person on Earth right now, and if there's ever anything I can do for you, I want to do it."

"I think your chances for having a real marriage someday are quite strong," they both jumped at the sound of Narcissa's voice. She stepped further into the room, smiling at Draco with tears in her eyes. "I know you don't believe me, but there is hope for you yet, my boy," she murmured, patting him on the cheek.

"Mum..." he mumbled, blushing and rolling his eyes.

"You listen to me, Draco Malfoy," Narcissa said fiercely. "All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. Not necessarily normal, but happy. I think you're finally on the right track. Just try to relax and let it happen. Forget about that stupid deadline. If we have to, we'll leave England. But please try to just relax and get to know this young woman. I have a good feeling about her." She smiled warmly at Hermione.

Draco shrugged, looking extremely uncomfortable. "I don't want to leave England," he mumbled anxiously after a few minutes.

"Don't think about it for now," Hermione murmured. "I'm scared too, but we'll figure it out somehow."

"I won't let them take your wand, Granger," Draco promised, his voice fierce. "If I can't...I'll make sure they know it's all on me if we don't..."

"Well, don't give up yet. Two weeks is a long time," She shrugged, still wondering if she should speak to Kingsley. Maybe if he could just give them more time to get used to each other...Draco's stomach gurgled loudly, interrupting her thoughts.

"Enough about that!" Narcissa clapped her hands briskly. "Let's have tea!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/16/15 to remove references to multiple house elves (there was actually only Tibby until later on in the story), and a time-turner Hermione does NOT still have. Oh, and to clear up Draco's sexual history (or lack thereof).


	8. Chapter 8

After tea, which was surprisingly pleasant, Narcissa led Hermione and Draco down a hallway perpendicular to the one they'd taken to get to the library. They crossed the end of the main hallway, which ran along the center of the house, and climbed the most elaborate staircase Hermione had ever seen. The intricately carved banister seemed to be constructed from one solid piece of wood. Lifelike vines, flowers, woodland animals and peeking nymphs decorated almost every centimeter of the railing and the wainscoting on the other side of the stairs. Hermione soon fell behind, utterly transfixed by the detailed images.

"You can study it all you want later, Granger," Draco's drawl pulled her from her examination of a beautifully rendered stag and doe. The pair were so realistic, she almost expected to catch them breathing if she watched them long enough.

"Sorry!" Hermione blushed, scurrying up the stairs to catch up with Draco and Narcissa, who looked bored and amused respectively.

"It's alright, darling." Narcissa chuckled softly. "It's magnificent, is it not?"

"Yes!" Hermione agreed, "Stunning!"

"My grandfather was a gifted artist," Narcissa said, smiling proudly. "At one point, his work was in great demand all over wizarding England. Even muggles were aware of his talent, though they didn't realize he used magic in his creations, of course."

"Is that..." Hermione hesitated, and Narcissa gestured for her to go on. "Is that how your mother's family became wealthy enough to afford this house?" She asked timidly. "Your grandfather was a sculptor?"

Narcissa laughed lightly. "Oh no, dear. The Rosiers had already owned Rosier Court for two generations before my grandfather was born. In fact, my great-grandfather tried to keep Grandpapa from his craft. He said it was unseemly for a Rosier to do any sort of work at all, let alone with his hands." She sighed, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"Great-grandfather told him to stuff it, and went on doing what he loved," Draco chimed in proudly, when it seemed like his mother wasn't going to continue. "Stubbornness runs in the family," he added, grinning slightly.

"So does artistic talent," Narcissa said pointedly. "Even if _some_ of us _stubbornly_ ignore it."

"Don't start, Mother," Draco muttered, then let out a huge yawn.

"We can talk about it later," Narcissa said in a tone that brooked no arguments. "Now come along before you drop..." She led them to the third floor, then down a short side corridor, which ended abruptly at a pair of double doors. Hermione was beginning to wonder if there were any single doors in the magnificent house.

"Here we go...the master suite!" Narcissa exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Mum, no..." Draco groaned quietly. "This is Grandmother and Grandfather's room..."

"According to tradition, it is now yours. You are the last male heir, and you are now married..." Narcissa said, throwing open both doors and motioning for them to enter. "Therefore, the rooms are yours," she concluded, nodding her head emphatically.

"We're not really _married_ married," Draco muttered sullenly, contradicting his own words earlier. 

"This is your house, Missus Malfoy-" Hermione began, about to suggest that the owner of the house ought to be the one to sleep in the master suite.

"I am a widow," Narcissa cut in, her voice tense. "I don't need this much space. I quite like staying in my childhood rooms anyway. I tend to be rather nostalgic, you see. And please...call me Narcissa," she requested gently.

"Alright, Narcissa," Hermione glanced at Draco, who looked, once again, like he might be sick. "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to share a room." Magical/mental disorder or not, she didn't fancy sleeping next to anyone who acted like her mere presence might cause them to have a nervous breakdown.

Narcissa snorted indelicately. "How, pray tell, do you propose to meet the Ministry's deadline if you don't sleep together?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, at a loss. After a few moments of this, Draco grabbed her elbow and gently urged her across the threshold, whispering, "It's a lost cause. I'll sleep on the floor. It beats Azkaban at any rate." He released her arm like a hot potato as soon as they were through the doors.

Hermione looked around in wonder at an impressive private sitting room. A large door on the right hand side was partially ajar, revealing an equally stunning bedroom. Like the hallway downstairs, the walls were covered in a very pretty slate blue silk. A large white marble fireplace adorned the wall to her left, while the wall opposite the entrance was nothing but floor to ceiling windows overlooking a lush green lawn and flower garden. A plush silvery gray carpet covered the floor, and matching armchairs sat on either side of the fireplace. A very comfortable-looking lounge, covered in velvet of the same silvery gray as the carpet, sat in front of the windows, promising a perfect spot to sit and read for hours. All in all, the room was exactly what Hermione would have designed for herself if given the opportunity. "It's lovely!" She breathed unconsciously.

"My grandmother designed it." Narcissa smiled softly as she looked around. "She was a lot like you, though she was a Ravenclaw. So was my mother."

"Is that why the house has so much blue?" Hermione giggled. "I was half expecting everything to be green."

"I hate the color green," Narcissa murmured a bit irritably. Hermione blushed.

"Sorry. I should know better. I'm not that fond of red myself," she mumbled apologetically. "I prefer blue, actually."

"Me, too," Draco announced unexpectedly. Hermione glanced bemusedly at him. All she'd ever seen him in was green, black, silver or gray. "What? Father always paid for my wardrobe," he shrugged, as if he'd read her thoughts.

"Oh." Hermione shrugged back lamely. She wondered how many times one could remove their foot from one's mouth before it became a permanent fixture. Then, she decided Draco owed her a "free" insult or two and shrugged again involuntarily. At this point she gave herself a good mental shaking, and prayed they didn't think she was completely insane. From the look Draco was giving her, it was too late on that front. As if he had any room to talk, though.

"See? You have something in common." Narcissa winked teasingly, confusing Hermione for a moment (and making her worry that both Malfoys were mind readers), until she remembered the conversation they'd _just_ had about their preference for the color blue. "I'll leave you two to rest. I could use a nap myself. I haven't slept very well recently, for obvious reasons..." Smiling tearfully, she embraced Draco tightly. "I am so happy to have you home, my dragon. I couldn't bear it if something had happened to you!"

Draco hugged her back, tears glittering in his eyes. Hermione looked away, feeling like an intruder. "I missed you so much, Mum!" She heard him whisper, his voice cracking with emotion. Hermione noted that he seemed completely normal in his interactions with his mother. She wondered if she could ever get him to open up with her that way. Maybe in another eighteen years...if he could avoid ending up back in Azkaban that long.

She was drawn from her musings by Narcissa embracing her just as warmly as she'd just hugged her son. "Thank you for bringing my baby home to me. I can never, ever repay you!" The older witch whispered fiercely, stepping back and grasping Hermione's hands. "This family is deeply in your debt!"

Hermione blushed again, unsure of what to say. As far as she was concerned, Draco wasn't out of the woods yet. Other than occasionally manhandling her by the elbow, he couldn't tolerate either of them touching the other without behaving like he might vomit or faint. And Hermione was clueless as to how to change that in just two weeks; especially since she tended to agree with him. At least on the vomiting part. "Don't thank me yet," she finally mumbled flatly.

Narcissa tsk'd. "Don't talk that way," she scolded none-to-gently. "We'll get through this." With that, she bowed her head slightly, then glided through the doors leading to the hallway, closing them behind her.

Hermione sighed tiredly. Turning around, she found herself alone. A quick peek into the bedroom revealed another Draco-less room, but there were two doors leading from this one. The first lead to a large walk-in closet (which she knew was completely out of place in a home as old as Rosier Court). Obviously Narcissa's family had made some changes over the years. A few sets of men's robes hung neatly on one side, but the other rail was vacant. At least she'd have plenty of room for her clothes. She sensed a shopping trip in Draco's near future. Although he was skinny as a rail, he'd grown several inches since the end of their sixth year, and surely must have outgrown whatever clothing he'd left at home the previous September when he left for Hogwarts. 

Leaving the closet, she walked past a huge canopy bed, which was as elaborately carved as the staircase downstairs. It was covered with a blue and silver comforter embroidered with vines and flowers, which complemented the light gray walls and dark blue carpet. Matching blue curtains surrounded the bed and graced the massive windows covering two walls of the corner room. Thick cushions in blue, gray, silver and white covered a long, low window seat that ran the full length of the shorter of the windowed walls. A cherry vanity sat against the wall to the left of the closet door beside a standing full length mirror, and matching cherry dressers stood on either side of the room's third door. Lastly, twin nightstands with antique crystal lamps stood on either side of the bed. All of the furniture had clearly been made by Draco's inarguably talented great-grandfather.

Trying the knob on the third door, she found it locked, and realized it must be an en-suite bathroom. Moving to one of the dressers, she found it half-filled with women's clothing...all muggle...mostly jeans and t-shirts. Everything was obviously brand new, and she smiled to herself wondering how in the world Narcissa had obtained it all on such short notice. She couldn't imagine her sending a house-elf to a muggle shop.

"Tibby isn't our only servant. The housekeeper is a witch," Draco's voice made her jump. Whirling around, she found him leaning in the bathroom doorway. The fitted robes he'd been wearing were gone, replaced by a pair of gray cotton shorts and a dark red t-shirt. He looked surprisingly at ease in muggle clothing. "You were wondering how mother got the clothes..." It wasn't a question

"Have you been using legilimency on me?" Hermione asked, frowning slightly. That would definitely explain a few things.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, lowering his gaze to the floor. "Force of habit. I have trouble reading people's faces sometimes. Especially when I'm nervous. Mother had Snape teach me legilimency during fourth year. It helps..." He peeked up at her through his hair, his eyes unreadable.

Hermione frowned again, then shrugged dismissively. "Why don't you take the bed. I'm not that tired, so I'll just relax on the lounge in the other room for a bit. You look like you could sleep for a year." He really looked like he had one foot in the grave, but she wasn't going to say that. She suddenly hoped he wasn't reading her thoughts again.

"Or two," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Thanks. I'm sorry Mum was so stubborn about sticking you in here." Looking her up and down, he mumbled tiredly, "I forgot to talk to Tibby about getting your things. Is there anything in the clothes Mum got that you can wear for now?" He yawned widely, and Hermione smiled.

"I'll be fine, thank you. I can pop over to the Burrow if I really need any of my things tonight. Otherwise, we can deal with it tomorrow," she assured him.

"Are you sure?" He said, yawning again.

"Yes!" Hermione laughed. "Now go to bed! I don't want to have to carry you over there." She pointed firmly at the bed, and he obediently staggered over to it and flopped face down into the pillows. Loud snores immediately filled the room. "Great...a fake husband who snores like a fog horn," Hermione sighed heavily, rolling her eyes.

After changing into a deep green t-shirt and black yoga pants in the enormous bathroom, which looked like it belonged in a resort spa, Hermione settled down on the lounge in their sitting room. She took a brief nap, but after an hour she couldn't stay still any longer. She quietly retrieved her only shoes from the bedroom, and transfigured them back into leather flats (although she now turned them black), she slipped out of the master suite and wandered around the house a bit.

Not knowing which bedroom was Narcissa's, she didn't dare open any doors on the upper floors. Enough of them were already open for her to count at least two other bedrooms on the third floor, as well as a large study. Another partially open door quite obviously led to the attic, but she chose to ignore it for the time being.

The second floor seemed larger than the third, and had at least two suites, a large bathroom, and several smaller bedrooms. The position of one particular set of closed double doors gave her the uncomfortable feeling that Narcissa's suite might be located directly below the Master suite. Not that it was an issue now, but it did seem a little strange to sleep directly over your mother-in-law's head. Imagine if they were actually doing something other than just sleeping up there. Her brain suddenly provided a brief and very unwelcome mental image of what Draco might look like naked. Shuddering violently, she headed downstairs.

The first floor was taken up in large part by a massive ballroom and large formal dining room, which she suspected might have built in expansion spells in place. There were a pair of almost identical sitting rooms, a formal parlor, a smoking room, drawing room, music room, the library, a powder room and a smaller, slightly less formal dining room. When she entered the large, sunny kitchen, she was surprised to find Narcissa sitting at a well-scrubbed wooden table with a rather heavy-set elderly woman in a gray housekeeper's uniform. They seemed to be having a casual chat. Hermione almost pinched herself, certain she was dreaming.

"Hermione!" Narcissa greeted her warmly. "Are you alright? I thought you were sleeping."

"Ditto," Hermione mumbled without thinking, then blushed. "I mean-"

"I'm too excited to sleep," Narcissa smiled sheepishly. Turning to the other woman, she said, "Melaina, this is Draco's wife, Hermione. I'm sure she'll fit in nicely." Turning to Hermione, she said, "Hermione, dear, this is the true mistress of Rosier Court. Melaina here has been housekeeper since my grandparents' time."

"You make me sound ancient, Cissa!" Melaina complained. "I only took over for my Mum one year before Master Colin passed away, and I was only eighteen at the time."

"And you've outlived my parents by ten years..." Narcissa teased, her eyes sparkling.

"Twenty years older than I am, weren't they?" The housekeeper laughed heartily, lightly slapping Narcissa's arm.

Hermione stared at them for a moment in stunned silence. Fighting back a nearly overwhelming urge to ask where they'd hidden the real Narcissa Malfoy, she finally managed to clear her throat and say, "It's very nice to meet you, Melaina."

"Have a seat, dear," Narcissa urged, patting the chair beside her. "Harry floo'd for you a little while ago. He wanted to know if he should bring your things over tomorrow," Narcissa informed her after she'd somewhat nervously obeyed.

"Would it be alright if I went to the Burrow to pack my things?" Hermione asked shyly. "I love Harry, but I wouldn't trust him with my books for all the tea in China," she admitted, wincing slightly at the thought of her clumsy friend touching her beloved collection.

"You don't have to ask!" Narcissa exclaimed, snorting softly. "You're not a prisoner here, dear girl. Quite to the contrary. This will be your house some day. You can come and go as you please, and invite whomever you want while you're at it. If you want to paint your bedroom pink, have at it!"

"I think Draco might have a thing or two to say about that." Hermione giggled nervously. "I like it the way it is, anyway."

"I suspected as much, or I never would have made such a ludicrous suggestion," Narcissa said, winking mischievously.

Hermione stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. Narcissa and Melaina joined in, though Melaina was a bit more reserved. Thinking of something, Hermione pulled herself together. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Would it be alright if I bring my cat here? My parents are...away, and I feel a little bad leaving him with the Weasleys."

"Oooooh...Draco will be delighted!" Narcissa clapped her hands excitedly. "He loves animals, but Lucius would never allow pets in the house. He said if wizards were meant to share space with animals, we'd live in barns." A roll of her eyes showed her opinion of that sentiment. "Of course you may have your cat. And any other pets you desire. It might be the way to my son's heart."

"I think I'll settle for Crookshanks. At least for now," Hermione chuckled, but made a mental note of her so-called husband's fondness for animals for future reference. Standing, she said, "I should probably go to the Burrow now, before it gets too late."

"You can use the floo in the front sitting room, dear." Narcissa also stood and gave her a brief hug. "Give the Weasleys my best wishes and tell Molly I will contact her tomorrow to discuss your reception."

"Reception?" Hermione asked confusedly. "I thought we were just going to have the Weasleys?"

"It's not every day the heir to one of Britain's wealthiest wizarding families gets married, dear."

Hermione bit back a moan. "How many people will you be inviting to this...reception?" She asked worriedly. The last thing she wanted was to spread around the news that she was such a hopeless sap that she'd married Draco Malfoy, even if it _was_ just to save his life. She knew she should have realized it would probably get out sooner rather than later. Remembering how many people had been in the courtroom when the verdict and sentence were read, she wondered why there weren't already reporters banging down the front door.

"Not many," Narcissa smiled reassuringly. "Most of my acquaintances are unfortunately...unavailable. I was thinking of inviting my sister Andi, and her grandson, the Weasleys, of course, and the Zabinis. Valerie is one of my closest friends, and Draco and Blaise have known each other since they were in nappies."

"Oh," Hermione felt guilty, suddenly realizing that most members of Narcissa's friends were either dead or in Azkaban. "That sounds perfect." She forced a smile on her face, suddenly longing for the Burrow. She should never have left it that morning. "If you'll excuse me, I really should be going." If she were smart, she would keep going. Maybe she could take another look around Australia for her parents...

"Will you be back for supper?" Melaina asked, gazing rather intently at Hermione, who began to wonder if legilimency was a required skill for _all_ residents of Rosier Court.

"It is nearly impossible to leave Molly Weasley's home without eating a meal," she explained apologetically. "I might get back rather late, I'm afraid."

"Take your time, dear," Narcissa murmured. "You need time to think, and say your good-byes, I'm sure. And to convince them we won't be chaining you up in the cellar." She smiled again at this, but it was strained.

Hermione laughed weakly. "Right," she agreed, willing herself not to rub the scar Bellatrix had left on the side of her neck, which always seemed to pick the most awkward times to itch. It had really flared up when she'd been on the witness stand earlier, unsuccessfully testifying on Draco's behalf. "Good-bye. If I don't see you again this evening, good night." With that, she left the room at the most dignified gait she could muster.

As she walked out of the kitchen, she heard Melaina whisper, "I like her, but do you really think young Draco will be able to bed her?"

In the hallway, Hermione froze, eyes wide, and held her breath so as not to be heard. After several seconds, Narcissa sighed and murmured, "If not her, I doubt any woman could win him over."

Hermione all but ran to the front parlor.


	9. Chapter 9

_August 4, 1998_

"Shhhhhh...don't wake up your Mum!" A loud whisper managed to negate its own command, jarring Hermione from a sound sleep.

Sitting up, she looked around in confusion for several seconds before she finally figured out where she was. Upon recognizing the sitting room of the master suite of Rosier Court, the rest of the previous day slowly came back to her, ending with her staggering "home" at eleven o'clock at night, changing into the first pair of pajamas she could find, and passing out on the lounge after letting Crookshanks out of his carrier. Which, she realized, meant Draco was probably speaking to her troublesome cat. "Shite!" She muttered, reluctantly crawling from the cocoon of blankets she'd created for herself the night before.

"You are a handsome fellow, aren't you?" She heard Draco croon. She sure _hoped_ he was talking to Crooks, because otherwise he was far more narcissistic (and crazy) than she'd previously thought. Peeking around the edge of the partially open doorway to the bedroom, she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of her cat fervently head butting her "husband" in the chest, while purring loudly enough to possibly wake up the neighbors, let alone Hermione. "Such a good boy..." Draco murmured, enthusiastically rubbing Crookshanks' ears and head.

"I'm sorry...did he wake you?" Hermione asked guiltily. "I thought the bedroom door was closed when I went to bed, but he can turn some knobs if he tries hard enough."

"It's alright," Draco turned to her and smiled openly. Hermione took a half step backwards in surprise at the effect it had on his face. For the first time, she almost understood why so many girls had thrown themselves at him back in school. When he really smiled, without holding back, he was almost attractive. "What's his name? He's magnificent! Aren't you?" He made kissy faces at the massive furball on his lap, and Hermione lost it.

Giggling helplessly, she managed to say, "His name is Crookshanks," before bending over to clutch her stomach as she continued to laugh. She was vaguely aware that she might be just a little bit hysterical at waking up to find the day before wasn't just an awful dream.

"Do...do you need a calming draught?" Draco asked anxiously. Looking up, she found that he'd moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Crookshanks sat beside him, and they wore nearly identical worried expressions. Of course, Draco's face was a great deal less wrinkly.

Hermione sat down on the floor, howling with laughter.

"Yeaaaah, you need a calming potion," Draco drawled slowly. Standing up, he crossed to the bathroom, calling, "I'll be back. Watch your Mum," over his shoulder.

He was talking to the cat again. Hermione snorted so loudly, it hurt her nose, then laid down on the soft carpet, wondering which of them belonged in St Mungo's the most.

"Alright...stop petting the rug, sit up, and drink this," Draco muttered a few minutes later, kneeling beside her and waving a small vial in front of her face.

"I'm not-" Hermione began, then noticed that her right hand was indeed moving back and forth over the plush carpet. It was amazingly soft, and quite comforting. "Oh..." Blushing, she sat up, took the vial from Draco's hand, and swallowed the contents in one gulp. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both apparently waiting for the potion to take effect.

When she finally stopped giggling uncontrollably, Draco asked, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," Hermione answered sheepishly. "I think everything just kinda hit me at once."

"I figured it would happen sooner or later," Draco shrugged carelessly. "Kind of surprised it took you so long."

"You're not making fun of me," Hermione observed, shooting him a questioning look. "Even Harry and Ron make fun of me when I freak out like that."

"I'm  _trying_ to be nice," Draco shrugged again. "Mark it on the calendar or something. I'm not sure how long I can keep it up."

Hermione smiled despite herself. Looking at her watch, she gasped, "Merlin! It's almost ten?"

"Let me guess, you're usually an early bird?" Draco asked distractedly. Crookshanks had jumped on the floor, and was rubbing all over him again, apparently in the throes of kitty ecstasy.

"Earlier than this," Hermione chuckled. "I got in a bit late last night, but I still shouldn't have slept _this_ late."

"I just woke up myself," Draco admitted a bit sheepishly. "Maybe exhaustion is contagious?"

Hermione shrugged slightly. Looking him over thoughtfully, she murmured, "You look a bit better this morning. You have a bit more color." It was true. His skin seemed a shade more pink than gray, and the circles under his eyes had faded dramatically. "You need to eat though. No one's cheekbones should stick out that much."

He frowned slightly and opened his mouth as if to protest, but just then his stomach growled loudly. Rolling his eyes, he chuckled sheepishly and stood up. "Care to join me for breakfast?" he asked very quietly, shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"Um...I'll be down in a bit. I need to change..." Hermione gestured at her wrinkled purple plaid pajamas.

"Did you get your things from the Burrow last night?" Draco asked, seemingly just to keep the conversation going.

Hermione had to give him credit for trying. "Yeah." She nodded slightly. "Harry says 'Hi' by the way."

Draco frowned slightly. "Just Harry?"

"Well, he's the only one I really talked to. The Weasleys were at their Aunt Miriel's," Hermione explained, shrugging dismissively.

"You were there late talking to Harry? Alone?" Draco's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Tell me you're not _jealous_?!" Hermione laughed scornfully. "You don't even like me! And he kept talking about Luna all evening!" As a matter of fact, her friend had nearly bored her to death, rambling on and on about the blonde witch.

Apparently, her close proximity to the Burrow had led to Luna and Harry spending a lot of time together in the last few months. While she was still living at the Burrow, Hermione had wondered where her friend was disappearing to nearly every evening after dinner, but now, she wasn't sure if solving that little mystery had been worth several hours of hearing how wonderful the younger witch was while she packed and shrunk her belongings.

"That's not the point." Draco was scowling. "How does it look if my wife is spending hours alone with another man?"

"Are you serious right now?" Hermione snorted. "Crookshanks is more of a wife to you than I am! At least you can touch _him_!" Jumping to her feet, she stomped over to her dresser and jerked open random drawers, finding all of her clothes neatly put away exactly where she would have put them. "You can't tell me what to do. If not for me, you'd be getting executed in two weeks! You can't tell me what to do!" She repeated frustratedly. Grabbing her favorite jeans, clean underwear and a bright red t-shirt, she marched into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her.

For several minutes, she leaned against the door with her eyes tightly shut, clutching her clothing in her fists until they were probably in worse shape than the pajamas she'd slept in. After a while, she realized that the irritating git in the other room had probably left in search of food, so she took a few deep breaths and slowly undressed. Turning on the hot water in the over-sized shower stall, she stepped under the flow, and began to shampoo her hair with the special anti-frizz shampoo that Ginny had found for her. Apparently, Tibby had unpacked _all_ of her belongings while she slept. "Merlin help her if she's messed up my books!" she growled irritably. "Stupid elf. Stupid husband. Stupid self for getting into this stupid mess in the first place!" She barely resisted the urge to bang her head on the tiled wall.

She stayed in the shower as long as possible, but unfortunately, even magical houses run out of hot water eventually. After dressing as slowly as possible, she carefully brushed and flossed her teeth, then combed and braided her hair before she finally admitted she had run out of legitimate reasons to remain in the bathroom. Refusing to hide any longer, she sighed heavily and pulled open the door.

"Oh good! Are you done sulking?" Narcissa greeted her cheerfully from the window seat.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked incredulously, stopping in the doorway.

"Before you wind yourself up in knots again, please drink your tea and hear me out..." Narcissa gestured at a tray on Hermione's dresser, which held a steaming cup of tea and a plate of warm, buttered scones. After a moment's hesitation, Hermione gave in to the urging of her stomach. Picking up the tea and a scone, she reluctantly joined her mother-in-law on the long cushioned bench. "Now, Draco told me what happened..."

"Nothing happened!" Hermione protested. "I packed my things while my best friend, who is more like a little brother to me, yammered on about the girl he likes!" Huffing irritably, she added under her breath, "I shouldn't even have to explain myself." Scowling, she stared into her teacup rather than meet the other woman's intense gaze.

"You shouldn't," Narcissa agreed, sympathetically. When Hermione whipped her head around to stare at her, she grinned slightly and said, "If you're done growling, may I explain?"

"I wasn't growling!" A dubious tilt of Narcissa's head took the wind out of her sails. "Go ahead," she murmured gloomily.

"Thank you," Narcissa nodded graciously. "You see, it's not that Draco thinks anything...untoward...happened. Or would really care if it had. But he...both of you, really, are being watched by the Ministry, who might not judge this marriage as very successful if you spend hours on end with another man. Another man whom you have been linked with romantically by the press in the past. Especially on your wedding night."

"But there's never been anything between Harry and I!" Hermione exclaimed. "And it's not like anything was going to happen between Draco and I last night," she snorted scornfully.

"Exactly," Narcissa said sadly. "He knows that. Just like he knows nothing is likely to happen between you any time soon. Nothing that isn't going to be...no offense...extremely unpleasant for him, at best."

"Gee, why would I take offense at that?" Hermione muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Narcissa frowned deeply. "I thought you understood. You willingly risked your own magic over this...to save his life. And he appreciates it more than he can express to you, believe me. But he is _terrified_ right now. His life now depends on his ability to somehow overcome the condition he's struggled with unsuccessfully for eighteen years. In two weeks! Two weeks, Hermione! It will not help if the Ministry hears about you spending time with _Harry_ , rather than working on your relationship with Draco. They don't know about his condition, and even if they did..."

Hermione sighed heavily. "He wouldn't be excused for his so called crimes, even if they knew."

"Exactly," Narcissa murmured softly. Hermione noticed she had tears her eyes and felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't think about it like that. I thought he was just being bossy...acting like I belong to him or something."

Narcissa laughed. "My son may be a bit stunted emotionally, but he's not so daft as to think he could ever claim 'ownership' of a witch like you. He wouldn't dare."

"Okay," Hermione chuckled shyly. "Where is he?" She asked, gulping down her lukewarm tea as she rose to her feet.

"I believe he went for a walk around the grounds. I would check the stables." Narcissa smiled softly, taking a sip of her own tea.

"Stables? Do you have horses?" Hermione couldn't keep the eagerness from her voice. It had been several years since she'd had a chance to ride. Far too long.

"Not anymore." Narcissa sighed regretfully. "The last of my mother's horses died a few years ago, and I haven't had a chance to replace them. Do you ride?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "It's been a while, but I used to practically live in the saddle before I started at Hogwarts."

"Draco is an avid horseman himself. I'll have to see about purchasing more horses as soon as possible," Narcissa mused. "It'll be good to have something the two of you can enjoy together."

"He really does love animals, doesn't he?" Hermione chuckled softly. "He's practically tamed my cat, and Crookshanks doesn't normally like anyone. I'm not entirely sure he even likes me."

"Ah...is that what you call my son's new furry shadow?" Narcissa giggled. "He practically ripped the kitchen door off its hinges when Draco went outside earlier. Melaina had to transfigure a cat door, for fear he'd smash a hole in the wall."

"Yes, that sounds like Crooks," Hermione nodded sheepishly. "I should have warned you, he's a bit of a handful."

"No worries," Narcissa shrugged. "Draco is infatuated with the little monster, and whatever makes him happy is more than worth the trouble. What kind of witches would we be if we couldn't keep up with one little kneazle, anyway?"

Hermione grinned. "I hope he doesn't make you regret those words."

"Pssh!" Narcissa snorted. "Run along and find your husband, dear. You need to spend time together, like it or not. Just remember...most times when he behaves like an arse, he's probably terrified."

"I'll keep that in mind," Hermione smiled weakly. Taking her scone with her, she made her way downstairs. Since Narcissa had mentioned the kitchen door, she headed that way.

Melaina looked up from what appeared to be an entire roasted pig she was basting, and gestured toward the back door. "Your dragon and his fuzzy friend are out terrorizing the chickens," she muttered in a way that somehow wasn't unfriendly.

"Thank you," Hermione replied gratefully. "I hope Crookshanks didn't cause too much trouble earlier."

Melaina raised one thick, gray eyebrow skeptically. "Have you met that cat, Missus Malfoy?"

Hermione flinched at the use of her new surname. "Please call me Hermione," she requested, barely suppressing a shudder.

"As you wish, Ma'am," Melaina nodded slightly and went back to her pig.

Hermione opened her mouth, decided it wasn't worth it, closed it again, and went outside. It didn't take long to find Draco and her cat. The panicked sound of frightened chickens coming from the far right hand corner of the grounds led her straight to a rather large chicken coop. Crookshanks was perched on the roof, swatting downward through the wire mesh at the hens running around frantically below.

Draco was alternately trying to calm the terrified fowl, and coax the cat down from his new throne. "Shhh! Shhhh! He won't hurt you! Oh, come on, mate! If you scare them all to death there'll be no eggs, their meat will be too tough to eat, and that mean lady in the kitchen will murder us both! You don't want to die do you?"

Crookshanks meowed dismissively and swiped at a passing hen, drawing his paw back covered with feathers. "Crookshanks! That's naughty! Come on...you don't want me to die, do you? I'm begging here!" Draco was pleading so desperately with the stubborn cat that Hermione had to cover her mouth to suppress a laugh.

As soon as he spotted her, Crookshanks yawned, stretched languorously, and jumped down, landing at Draco's feet. "Oh, good boy!" The blond exclaimed. "It's bad enough knowing I'm likely to end up snogging a Dementor, but I do not want to piss off Melaina. She's almost as scary as your Mum."

"Funny...I don't recall actually giving birth to any furry traitors..." Hermione drawled teasingly, laughing when Draco jumped guiltily and spun around. A horrified expression flashed briefly across his face, until he apparently remembered he was supposed to be mad at her and scowled sullenly. "Oh, stop it," Hermione scoffed. "I talked to your Mum. I get it now. No more alone time with Harry." She sighed ruefully.

"Thank you." Draco smiled weakly. "I didn't mean to come off like some Neanderthal before. I'm...I'm sorry."

Hermione shrugged dismissively. "You come by it honestly, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco bent over and picked up Crookshanks before he could scratch a hole in his pant leg. "I suppose that's a fair assessment of my father," he said stiffly.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, taking turns petting Crookshanks, who seemed positively ecstatic over all the attention. Spotting the roof of a building over some trees at the far corner of the grounds, Hermione asked, "Is that the stable?"

"Yeah," Draco nodded, "But there aren't any horses," he mumbled, sadly.

"Yet," Hermione added. "Your Mum said she's going to buy some more soon."

His head shot up excitedly. "Really?!" He asked, his eyes lighting up as he smiled happily.

"Yeah." His excitement was contagious and Hermione couldn't help but smile back. "She said since we both ride she wanted to give us something we can do together."

"You ride?" Draco asked, his smile widening.

"I'm a little rusty, but yeah." Hermione nodded.

"Meh...what's that muggle saying? It's like riding a tricycle..." Draco chuckled.

"A bicycle." Hermione giggled. "It's like riding a bicycle."

"Whatever," he shrugged. "Riding is riding."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. Just then, Crookshanks jumped to the ground and streaked across the lawn toward the house. "Shite! Get back here! Crooks!"

"He'll be fine," Draco said reassuringly, but took off after the cat despite his words.

Hermione followed, lagging far behind because of her shorter legs. She didn't catch up until she finally found them in the library.

Crookshanks was curled up on one of the room's many armchairs, and Draco was standing in front of one of the bookcases, his head tilted to the side as he skimmed over the titles in front of him. "These must be yours," he murmured when Hermione entered the room.

Walking over to him, Hermione read a few of the titles. "Yep. Damn those elves are thorough." Stepping closer to the shelf, she ran a finger over the books, happy to see them all displayed together properly for the first time since...ever. She'd never had room to do so before.

"What is 'Wuthering Heights?'" Draco asked curiously.

Raising an eyebrow incredulously, Hermione pulled the book from the shelf, and thrust it into his hands. "Read it," she ordered briskly.

"But...what is it about?" Draco frowned thoughtfully, turning it over in his hands.

"Just read it." Hermione laughed softly. "If the Ministry wants you to show you can tolerate muggles, maybe getting familiar with their literature is a good place to start."

"This was written by a muggle?" Draco asked, opening the book and gently flipping through the pages.

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "It's one of the great classics of Victorian literature."

"Hmmm. Sounds like it could be interesting..." He'd already flipped back to the first page and begun reading, nearly missing the chair he absent-mindedly plopped into.

Hermione watched him for a few minutes, amused by his distinctly Hermione-like behavior, then began wandering around the room until she found a few thick books on a bottom shelf behind a large potted palm. Clearly placed there to avoid notice by the casual observer, they were all about mental disorders and their treatment in the wizarding world. After confirming that Draco was completely absorbed in the drama of nineteenth century northern England, she pulled the more promising of these volumes from their shelf, and settled in at a small desk under one of the windows. She was determined to learn as much as possible about her new husband's condition before their two weeks were up. She knew she was going to need all the help she could get.

When she finally collapsed on the gigantic bed in their suite later that night (Draco had insisted on taking the lounge in the sitting room, where he was probably still reading 'Wuthering Heights'), she was feeling more than a little discouraged. Falsted's seemed to be an extremely rare disorder, so there was almost no research on its causes or treatment. Narcissa had said it had been caused in Draco's case by his exposure to dark magic in the womb, but one of the most severe cases she came across in the books was a little girl whose mother had merely fallen off a broom before she was even aware she was pregnant. Another boy in the early 1900s had been born to a witch who'd once been Crucio'd within an inch of her life, but he'd had only mild symptoms. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to how people developed the disorder, or how severely affected they were by it.

The most disturbing thing she'd found was that none of the patients in any of the books seemed to be affected as severely or for as long as Draco. Quite a few seemed to completely outgrow their symptoms before they reached adulthood. Those who did not were at least able to have some semblance of a normal relationship with their close friends and relatives. None of the case studies even mentioned the severe aversion to touch that Draco suffered, though a few patients did avoid shaking hands with strangers. No explanation was given for why they did so. Draco's was the first reported case in almost fifty years, and the magical healing community had declared the disorder cured when the last patient's symptoms vanished after she was treated with strong calming draughts for a three month period. When asked, Narcissa had confirmed that calming draughts had no effect on most of Draco's symptoms, except for his frequent panic attacks in social situations. None of the treatments his healer had attempted had ever helped with anything but his severe social anxiety and lack of empathy, and even then, the improvement was marginal at best.

"What the hell are we going to do about you, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione mumbled tiredly as she finally closed her eyes and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/17/15 - Just cleaning up some grammar and eliminating references to multiple elves who didn't exist yet. lol


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, she's not falling in love with him at this point. She's just stopped hating him and is starting to feel sincerely sorry for him.

_August 5, 1998_

The next morning, Hermione awoke to Crookshanks landing on the middle of her chest, a habit she thought she'd broken him of years ago. "Oof! Crookshanks! What have I told you about that?" She complained, sitting up and rubbing her sternum.

"I think he's excited because he's in a new place," Draco's voice answered from the bathroom door.

Hermione quickly adjusted the straps of the white tank top she had slept in the night before. Turning slowly to her "husband," she gulped loudly upon catching sight of him. He was leaning in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel; slung so low over his hips, it seemed in danger of falling off at any time. His hair was damp, and droplets of water clung to his pale skin. This all might have been appealing (on someone else), except not only was he _Draco_ , but she could count every single one of his ribs, and could also see multiple scars, and barely healed cuts, scrapes and bruises all over his torso and arms. "Oh my goodness, what happened to you?!"

Draco glanced down, then sighed and rolled his eyes. "Hang on..." He disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. While his back was turned, she got a brief glimpse of several long, red welts criss-crossing his back. They were layered on top of similar but older, faded, pink and even white lines, indicating that he'd been whipped more than once, and over the course of many years.

As soon as the door closed, Crookshanks meowed loudly and head-butted Hermione in the chest before taking a few steps toward the bathroom. Looking back at Hermione, he meowed again and Hermione gasped. "You wanted me to see that he's hurt, didn't you?" Crookshanks sat down and meowed softly, giving her a 'Took you long enough!' look. "Good boy, Crooks," Hermione praised him quietly, reminding herself that her pet was half kneazle, and therefore smarter than a normal cat. She really ought to give him more credit.

A few minutes later, the door opened again. Now fully clothed, Draco reluctantly walked into the bedroom, sat on the foot of the bed, and began picking at the comforter, avoiding eye contact. "Get it out of your system," he sighed heavily. Crookshanks immediately jumped onto his lap and began purring, and kneading his leg.

"Was it the guards?" Hermione asked, ignoring the older scars for now. She was having trouble controlling her temper, and her voice shook slightly. "Or the Aurors who brought you to the courtroom?"

"Who said it had to be one or the other?" Draco asked sarcastically. He smirked slightly, but his eyes were dark and moody.

"Oh my god. Draco! We can't let them get away with treating you that way!" Hermione exclaimed angrily. "It's inhumane!"

"I don't know what the prison system is like in the muggle world, sweetheart, but here in the wizarding world, prisoners are considered guilty until they prove otherwise," he muttered bitterly. "The place is guarded by the guys who didn't qualify to be Aurors, and soul-sucking monsters who feed off misery. How did you think I was treated?" He asked sarcastically, then smirked again. "I was sort of lucky, actually. I couldn't feel most of what they did."

"That's barbaric." Hermione's eyes filled with tears, taking them both by surprise. "Someone should do something."

"Don't cry for me, I'm not worth it," Draco murmured quietly, looking extremely uncomfortable. Standing abruptly, he ignored Crookshanks' irritated meow and strode to the sitting room door. "Mum says we're expecting company for brunch, so you might wanna lose the penguins..." He glanced meaningfully at Hermione's pink flannel, penguin-covered sleep pants before leaving her alone, and feeling more than a little disillusioned about the ways of the wizarding world.

After a quick shower, she dressed in a long, pale yellow sundress, braided her hair, and slipped on a pair of white leather sandals before heading downstairs. When she walked into the kitchen, Melaina greeted her silently with a cup of tea and a blueberry muffin.

"Good morning, dear," Narcissa murmured, putting the morning Prophet down on the table and gesturing at the seat across from her. "You look very nice today."

"Thank you. Have you seen Draco?" Hermione asked irritably as she plopped down heavily in the specified chair.

"I thought you'd spoken to him?" Narcissa asked confusedly. "He said he told you we'll be having guests shortly."

"No. I mean yes, I talked to him," Hermione mumbled. "What I meant was have you _seen_ him...like...his body? Since he's been home..."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Have _you_?" She asked, a slightly hopeful look in her eyes.

"Yes." Hermione nodded slightly, then gestured dismissively when Narcissa smiled triumphantly. "Oh, not like that! He came out of the bathroom this morning, wearing only a towel, and he looks _terrible_!"

"Terrible?" Narcissa asked coldly, obviously offended.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm not trying to say he's unattractive. Except he kind of _is_ , because he looks like a skeleton wrapped in a blanket made of cuts and bruises. I think he's been whipped, too!"

Narcissa blinked a few times, then frowned darkly. Without another word, she rose and marched out the back door, slamming it loudly behind her. Hermione jumped, splashing tea on the table.

Melaina hurried over, cleaning the tea with her wand. "Someone's in trouble," she observed dryly.

"Me?" Hermione squeaked nervously.

"No." Melaina laughed grimly. "Whoever hurt Cissa's baby. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes." Moving to the back window, she gazed out over the backyard. "Like a mother bear, that one. Too bad her own mother wasn't more like her. Miss Bella might not have turned out so bad, and Cissa wouldn't have had to marry that snake."

Hermione raised an eyebrow but decided to say nothing because just then, Narcissa burst back into the kitchen with a very sullen Draco in tow. She led him straight across the room, making a beeline for the hallway.

"Thanks for nothing, Granger," Draco snarled as they passed.

Narcissa came to a halt and whirled around, shoving her right index finger in her son's face. "Apologize!"

"What?" Draco blinked. "I didn't even say anything mean..."

"You were rude!" Narcissa said exasperatedly. "Hermione was only trying to help. She was concerned about you. You should be thanking her."

Draco's jaw tightened stubbornly for a moment, but Narcissa stared him down and he finally caved. Turning to Hermione, he mumbled, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. And thanks for looking out for me, but I'm fine, really," he added, shooting a rebellious glare at his mother.

"You will be," Narcissa agreed, nodding her head briskly. "It's a good thing I got in the habit of keeping plenty of healing supplies in the house..." she muttered under her breath as she dragged him away.

Hermione glanced at Melaina, who shrugged carelessly. "See? Mother bear." The housekeeper turned back to the dishes she'd been washing, effectively ending the conversation.

Hermione quickly finished her muffin and fled the kitchen, deciding to hide in the library until their mystery guests arrived. Twenty minutes later, she thought she heard a baby crying, and then a house elf suddenly appeared in front of her, dressed in a sort of purple tutu consisting of what appeared to be a silk table runner wrapped repeatedly around her tiny waist and tied at the chest and waist with what looked like tasseled gold curtain tie-backs. Hermione  "Excusing me, Mistress, but guests have arrived, and Miss Cissy be busy yelling at Master Draco."

"Oh," Hermione set aside the medical journal she'd been reading and stood up. "You can call me Hermione, by the way. You must be Tibby?"

"I be Tibby, Mistress Hermione," the elf curtseyed politely. "This way. Guests be in the front parlor."

Hermione followed a bit reluctantly, wondering who was waiting for her at the other end of the hallway. It would be beyond awkward if it turned out to be one of Narcissa's wealthy friends. She remembered her mentioning the Zabinis the day before, and struggled to think of something to say to the stand-offish Slytherin and his mother.

Fortune must have smiled on her, because when she timidly entered the front parlor, she found Harry standing with Andromeda Tonks, who was holding a very sleepy-looking Teddy Lupin in her arms. "'Mione!" Harry greeted her cheerfully, stepping forward to kiss her on the cheek as if he hadn't seen her in a year.

"Volume!" Andromeda whispered scoldingly, holding a finger to her lips as she swayed back and forth, gently patting her grandson's back. "Hello, Hermione," she added softly.

"Kindly keep your lips off my wife, Potter," Draco muttered from the doorway before walking in with Narcissa at his heels.

"Oh stop that. No one from the Ministry is here," Hermione rolled her eyes.

Narcissa nodded her head subtly toward the front windows. "You never know, dear," she murmured apologetically.

"Oh brother," Hermione muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Harry looked back and forth between Hermione, Narcissa and Draco, then apparently decided to let it go. "Hello Missus Malfoy. Draco," he said, nodding politely to each in turn.

"Call me Narcissa or Cissa, Harry," Narcissa corrected gently, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on both cheeks. Biting her lip, she turned toward her older sister, who was standing awkwardly with Teddy, now asleep, resting against her left shoulder. "Andi...it's been far too long..."

Andromeda's eyes filled with tears, and she carefully wrapped her free arm around her younger sister's shoulders. "It has, but now we can start over, thanks to Harry, here," she said, smiling warmly at him.

"'Mione helped," Harry blushed.

Hermione caught Draco rolling his eyes, and opened her mouth to scold him. He shocked her by saying, "Don't sell yourself short, Po...Harry. From what I've heard Granger and the Wea-" he winced, "Hermione and Weasley helped you with the prep work, but in the end, you're the one who faced the bastard alone."

Harry stared at him, gobsmacked, until Hermione poked him discreetly. Blinking a few times, he finally stammered, "Uh...I guess when you put it that way..."

Draco chuckled dryly, and patted Harry's shoulder once, very lightly. Hermione stared at him bemusedly, and he shrugged at her behind Harry's back as Narcissa led them all out of the parlor, chatting quietly with her sister.

"How did you end up with Aunt Andromeda?" Draco asked Harry while the three of them walked side by side behind the two women. They passed outside through the kitchen, and began walking along the shore of a large, crystal clear pond at the back edge of the grounds.

"I visit her a lot because of Teddy," Harry shrugged. "I was there this morning when your Mum floo'd, so your Mum invited me to come along. Andi was a little nervous about seeing her again, so I figured it was a good chance to see how Hermione was doing."

"And to make sure we don't have her chained in the cellar?" Draco asked, grinning weakly.

"That too." Harry chuckled ruefully. Looking back at the house, he said, "This place is gorgeous. I hope Grimmauld comes out half this nice." He'd been working all summer with a contractor to restore the dusty old mansion.

"How is it coming?" Hermione asked, noticing that Draco looked interested. It was his great-aunt's home, after all, but he was just fidgeting nervously with his sleeve like he didn't know what to say.

Harry frowned at her questioningly, which was understandable, since she'd just been there with him the day before Draco's trial. She subtly gestured at Draco with her head, and Harry's face lit up with understanding. Smiling, he said, "I've finished the entire first floor. I replaced all of the wallpaper, paint and flooring. I finally got some new furniture to replace what I couldn't refinish. Now, I have a crew working on updating the kitchen and bathrooms, because I don't really dare to mess with the plumbing. I'm working on replacing the wallpaper and flooring in the second floor hallway and my bedroom, so I should be able to move in pretty soon. Oh, and I finally buried the house elf heads in the back yard yesterday afternoon." He shuddered slightly. "I thought Kreacher was gonna explode."

"I'm so glad my grandparents never adopted that tradition," Draco grimaced. "Who hangs heads on their wall?"

"Kreacher claimed it was a house elf tradition," Hermione said, frowning.

"Kreacher is a nutter," Draco snorted. "Has been for years. And don't get me started on Great Aunt Walburga. That head thing was her messed up idea; a way to keep the elves in line. I'm glad my grandmother kept my grandfather a bit more sane."

"So...if your great grandfather was my grandmother's brother," Harry said, his brow creasing as he seemed to calculate something in his head. "That makes us...second cousins? Third?"

"You and Narcissa are second cousins. Draco is your second cousin once removed," Hermione explained. "My Mum..." she paused as her chest clenched painfully upon mentioning her mother. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "My Mum was really interested in genealogy. She even found out that there have been two other witches in my father's family." Hermione wondered if she'd ever be able to speak of her parents without feeling physical pain over their loss.

"So, you're not a muggle born? You're...a halfblood from a long line of Squibs?" Draco asked teasingly. "Is that better than being a muggle born?"

Hermione knew he wasn't serious, but she saw a dark expression cross Harry's face, and quickly spoke up. "Well, obviously. I could hex you into next week without breaking a sweat, Malfoy," she shot back, keeping her tone light.

Draco chuckled ruefully, "I'm sure you could. You might even give my Mum a run for her money. But, I must remind you...you're a Malfoy now, too."

"Did he..." Harry's voice cracked. "Did he just compliment you?" He asked after clearing his throat.

"Almost." Hermione nodded. "He does that now...says things that are almost nice. It's creepy isn't it?"

"Ha ha..." Draco dead panned. Then, he bumped her playfully with his hip. In her surprise, she inhaled funny and almost choked on nothing at all. "Are you okay?" He asked when she finally stopped coughing.

"It's so hard to tell lately," Hermione shrugged uncertainly.

"Let's sit a while," Draco suggested, walking out onto a small wooden dock on the edge of the pond. All three of them kicked off their shoes and sat with their feet dangling in the refreshingly cool water. It was almost eleven, and the day was already growing hot.

"This is kind of surreal," Harry commented softly after they'd sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence for several minutes, watching a family of ducks padding around the pond.

"Only kind of?" Draco chuckled, shifting around to get more comfortable. His bare foot briefly brushed against Hermione's under the water, but he didn't seem to notice.

Hermione watched his face closely as she deliberately touched his foot with hers and held it there. She waited as the heat of his skin slowly seeped into hers, chasing away the chill of the water. She counted nearly twenty seconds in her head before he cleared his throat and pulled his foot away. Letting out a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding, she gave him a questioning look, wondering if the water somehow cancelled out his aversion to touch.

"Not enough," he mouthed, reading her thoughts again, but gave her an uncertain shrug and moved his foot back against hers.

Harry seemed totally absorbed in watching the ducks, but after thirty three seconds, when a bead of sweat dripped from Draco's temple and he jerked his foot away with a pained gasp, he quietly asked, "So...you two seem to be getting along pretty well. Why haven't you, uh, finalized the marriage?"

"What?" Hermione yelped. "Who says we haven't?"

"None of your business, Potter," Draco snarled, his cheeks redder than Hermione had ever seen. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his shoes and stormed back to the house.

Harry watched him go, his eyes wide.

"Why would you ask something like that, Harry?" Hermione demanded angrily.

"Well, I asked Arthur about how wizarding marriage rituals work. He said that with the ritual Kingsley used, you're supposed to get one more ring added to your tattoos, or whatever those markings are on your wrists..." he pointed vaguely at Hermione's right wrist. "The spell also automatically records the marriage as official in the Ministry records. And that's when the extra powers kick in."

"Okay...that answers how you knew, but why would you ask us that?!" Hermione asked, scowling. Then his words sank in. "Wait...what powers?"

"Well, it's not really special abilities or anything. Your magic will just be stronger when you're together, especially if you're touching," Harry explained. "You might notice some of it before...you know, but it's supposed to become much more noticeable after."

"Hmmm. I haven't noticed anything," Hermione shrugged. "But that still doesn't explain why you asked such a very rude and personal question."

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "Like I said, you seem to be getting along, and I thought you'd want to avoid the side effects. It's been two days already...they'll start to kick in soon."

"Side effects?" Hermione asked reluctantly.

"Didn't Kingsley explain anything?" Harry grunted. "The longer you wait to...you know...the more sick you're going to start to feel if you're not together. Your magic will grow weaker, too. It's all meant to force arranged couples to just, well, get it over with."

"Lovely..." Hermione muttered sarcastically, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Just fantastic."

"Why don't you?" Harry asked hesitantly. "Get it over with, I mean."

"It's complicated," Hermione sighed tiredly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to go back to bed, curl up under the covers and hide. Forever.

"I know he's not one of your favorite people, but if you weren't willing to, uh, fully commit, maybe you shouldn't have agreed to marry him in the first place," Harry said. His tone made it clear that he thought that Hermione had been refusing to sleep with Draco.

Temper flaring due to her own frustration with the situation, Hermione blurted, "Hey, I'm not the problem here!"

"It's him?" Harry blinked. "You're his get out of jail free card. I thought he'd try to seal the deal, so to speak, the first chance he got."

"Classy, Harry," Hermione muttered sarcastically.

"Wait...is he refusing because of your blood status?" Harry asked angrily. "He's supposed to be proving he's past all that. The git!"

Hermione bit her lip nervously, then said, "He's injured. The guards beat him up pretty badly, and he's so malnourished that we're just, uh, waiting for him to feel a bit better first. I mean, we have two weeks, right?" It wasn't a total lie, she reassured herself.

Evidently mollified, Harry said, "Alright, but I dunno about you having two weeks. The Ministry might've given you that long, but I don't know if the spell will. Five or six days seems to be about the longest most couples make it, and that's a stretch."

Hermione stared at him in horror, trying to mask her feelings so Harry wouldn't become any more suspicious. She really needed to find Draco and force him to have the conversation they'd been avoiding.

Unfortunately, Andromeda and Narcissa insisted on having a long, leisurely lunch under the gazebo located on the far edge of the pond. Draco finally re-emerged from the house after Narcissa had Tibby threaten him with disowning if he didn't join them. Stomping across the yard with Crookshanks at his heels, he pinned Harry with a glare that would have done his younger self proud. When Harry stammered out an awkward apology for his nosiness, Draco coldly accepted, and proceeded to ignore both Harry and Hermione until the former left with Andromeda and Teddy late in the afternoon.

Back in the kitchen, Narcissa was chattering excitedly about how well the visit had gone, how adorable her great-nephew was, and dropping very unsubtle hints as to how much she envied her sister for having a grandchild, when Draco turned on Hermione and yelled, "What did you tell him?!"

"Huh?" Hermione asked, flinching away from him. His eyes were dark with rage. She'd never seen him so angry, even during the war.

"Draco!" Narcissa gasped, frowning disapprovingly.

"Did you tell him about my problem?" Draco asked, ignoring her. "I saw those stupid pitying looks he was giving me over lunch! How could you betray me like that? I...I actually trusted you!"

Now Narcissa was focusing her frown on Hermione. Raising a hand in what she hoped was a calming gesture, Hermione said, "I wouldn't tell him about that without your permission. I told him you're not feeling well after being starved and beaten in Azkaban, and that we're just waiting for you to feel better."

"Really?" His scowl faltered slightly. "That's all you told him?"

"Of course really." Hermione nodded irritably. "I wouldn't betray a trust like that."

"Okay...well...he's a prat for asking!" He grumbled.

"Yes," Hermione agreed calmly. "But, it turns out, he had a very good reason for asking." Turning to Narcissa she asked, "Did you know that the ritual Kingsley used to bind us is going to make us sick and weaken our magic if we take too long to...you know..."

Narcissa winced. "I hoped it wouldn't take long enough for that to be an issue," she murmured guiltily.

"Are you serious, Mum?!" Draco exclaimed incredulously, flailing his arms. "Have we met? Hello?"

"When Minister Shacklebolt and I were discussing it before the ceremony, I was under the impression that you'd been intimate before!" Narcissa snapped, hands on her hips. Draco frowned accusingly at Hermione, who shrugged sheepishly. "And either way, isn't it better to be briefly uncomfortable than permanently dead?"

"It's a little beyond uncomfortable, Mum!" Draco yelled. "It hurts! Have you ever tried to stay...um...aroused while being stabbed with needles everywhere the other person touched you? Needles that heat up the longer they stay in contact."

"Is that what it feels like?" Hermione whispered, remembering the sweat on his forehead when he'd touched her foot.

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly. "I tried to have sex with Pansy once. It hurt so bad, I couldn't even...get it up. I had to obliviate her before she told the whole school I was impotent or something." His shoulders slumped, and Narcissa moved closer, gently rubbing his back.

Hermione sighed softly. "What about the water?"

"Slightly cooler needles," he replied, shaking his head. "I was just trying to see how long I could bear it."

"Nowhere near long enough," Hermione muttered frustratedly.

"We'll figure out something," Narcissa declared determinedly. "I'm not giving up."

"I think we need to consult a healer," Hermione said. "It's not like we need a permanent cure, just something temporary to help dull the symptoms for, what, ten minutes?"

"Flattering, Granger," Draco snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, that's about five minutes longer than my first time," Hermione confessed, grinning ruefully.

Draco blinked, then laughed. "You really have no luck with men, do you?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Hermione shrugged. "He was very sweet." She just prayed word never got back to Ron that they'd had this particular discussion. "Please don't tell him what I just told you."

Draco rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like, "Bleeding heart Gryffindors," but he smiled at her with something almost like fondness, or at least amusement. She felt something in her chest seem to loosen slightly, and smiled back, honestly hoping for the first time that they'd figure out a solution before it was too late...and not just because of her conscience.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the library. Hermione studied her medical texts, finding nothing. Shortly after supper Draco asked her if she had any other books by Emily Bronte, having already finished 'Wuthering Heights.' He was quite disappointed to hear there were none, but agreed to try Hermione's copy of 'The Great Gatsby' with little protest.

Hours later, when she went upstairs to the over-sized bed in their suite, Draco followed her to their room, where he sprawled out on the window seat. He kept her awake for another hour with questions about which muggle authors she preferred. He also offered a few recommendations for magical authors she might like. When he finally dozed off, she lay in the dark listening to his soft breathing (apparently the snoring of the first afternoon was a fluke), and wondered if she'd ever forgive herself if she couldn't save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/18/15 - Just cleaning some stuff up now that I've finished the story. Removed those pesky additional, non-existent house elves, mostly. And fixed Tibby's "tutu" to make it clear that it's NOT an actual tutu.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon my awful French. Seriously. Apologies to my high school French teacher. I'm pretty sure I butchered it.

_August 6, 1998_

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she heard the sound of the shower running. Crookshanks was lying on the foot of the bed, staring intently at the bathroom door.

After a few minutes, the water cut off, and she heard a few soft thumps, then a bang, accompanied by a startled yelp. "Draco? Are you alright?" She called worriedly.

The door opened and Draco emerged wrapped in a huge white bath towel, clutching his wand tightly in his right fist. Hermione gaped at him, her jaw hanging loosely. His hair was standing on end, and seemed to be smoking slightly. "Fucking drying spell almost took off my head!" Draco exclaimed, his voice cracking. Frowning bemusedly, he shook his wand a few times, then pointed it at a small vase on his dresser, warily saying, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The vase rose into the air, then hovered, as if awaiting further instructions. "Your wand seems okay," Hermione observed. "Are you sure you used the right spell?"

"Do I look like a first year to you?" He asked, obviously offended by the question. Waving his wand again, he sent the vase back to its original location.

Hermione decided to try to lighten the moment. Looking slowly from the top of his head down to his bare lower legs (which were actually rather well muscled despite the extreme skinniness of his upper body), she smirked teasingly, and asked, "Which part of you? It's a toss up."

Draco stared at her blankly for several seconds, then rolled his eyes, and grinned wryly. "First year is kind of young to be sleeping around, but I'm sure there are at least a couple of second and third years out there with a 'part' more mature than mine. Gotten more use out of it, anyway." He rolled his eyes and chuckled self-deprecatingly.

Hermione grimaced. "I didn't mean..." she glanced involuntarily at his groin, then jerked her eyes back to his face, and found him smirking teasingly at her. "You prat! I wasn't referring to _that_ , I was just trying to tease you about your scrawny arms!" She huffed, crossing her own arms over her chest.

"Nice, Granger," Draco snickered. "Pick on the half-starved man for being thin."

"Hey, I got you to smile didn't I?" Hermione asked sheepishly.

"That you did," he conceded, before going silent.

"Your Mum must be a good healer," Hermione murmured thoughtfully when the silence became awkward again after several seconds. "You look a lot better today." She made a mental note to ask Narcissa her secrets. Most of Draco's injuries seemed to be completely healed, though his body was still marred by several pale pink scars. He could really use another nourishing potion or two, as well. Every one of his ribs were still clearly visible, protruding from his almost translucent skin. It almost hurt to look at them.

Shifting her attention back to his face, she saw a flash of mischief in his eyes, but whatever smart ass remark he'd been about to make was nipped in the bud when Crookshanks suddenly leaped from the bed, hitting Draco in the stomach and dislodging his towel.

Hermione gasped and covered her eyes before anything important was revealed. Upon hearing the bathroom door slam, she peeked between her fingers just in time to see Crookshanks disappear through the sitting room door with the towel dragging behind him. "Your cat is a pervert, Granger!" Draco called from the bathroom. Luckily, he didn't seem to be angry, because Hermione burst out laughing. "What's so funny?"

"I think my cat is gay," she chortled. "He just got more intimate with my so-called husband than I have."

"Ha ha," Draco muttered, emerging from the bathroom in a pair of blue cotton shorts and a black t-shirt. His hair was still completely out of sorts, despite the fact that he had obviously made some effort to tame it. The ends were definitely scorched in a few places. "I'm being sexually harassed by a fur ball," he joked, trying rather unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

"Admit it, you like him way more than you do me." Hermione shrugged carelessly. She personally thought that the way he and the grumpy old kneazle doted on each other was rather adorable.

"Nah," Draco shrugged back. "You're about tied."

"Wow," Hermione said in mock awe. "You really know how to flatter a girl, Malfoy."

"You should be flattered, Granger," Draco grinned. "I like that cat more than I do most people. But you're nowhere near as annoying as I thought."

"Be still my heart," Biting back a smile, Hermione rolled her eyes and climbed out of bed. Pausing to grab clean clothes from her dresser, she tried to walk past him into the bathroom. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Excuse me?" Hermione mumbled, confused by his behavior.

"Just need to try something," he murmured, then suddenly pressed his lips to hers and held them there.

Hermione went rigid with shock, not even closing her eyes. Draco, on the other hand, had his eyes tightly shut, his whole face screwed up in an expression she quickly realized was pained. When he let out an agonized whimper, she pushed him away irritably. "What are you doing?!"

Draco opened his eyes, blinking back tears, and her anger instantly vanished. "I was feeling fairly comfortable with you just then," he explained apologetically. "I wanted to see if that made any difference. We need to start trying harder to figure this out."

"Okay," Hermione sighed. "You're right, but don't keep doing something if it's hurting you, idiot." She reached up instinctively to wipe a tear from his cheek, but stopped herself just in time.

"I don't think I'm going to have that luxury," he mumbled. Stepping out of her way, he said, "I'll see you downstairs."

Hermione watched him walk slowly of the room, his shoulders slumped dejectedly, and sighed unhappily. She had to admit, if only to herself, that she was beginning to sincerely care what happened to her former nemesis. She was no longer merely concerned with just doing what was right, or about the possible repercussions for herself if they failed. If something happened to him now, she knew she wouldn't just feel guilty...she'd lose someone who was, unexpectedly, turning out to be worth the effort of getting to know him better. She wasn't in love with him, not by a long shot, but against all odds, she was afraid she was actually beginning to _like_ him.

Rushing through her shower, she threw on a pale pink cotton skirt, a white sleeveless blouse, and her white leather sandals, then pulled her hair up in a loose, messy bun. When she finally found Draco, he was fidgeting on a stool on the home's large wraparound porch, a petulant scowl on his face. Narcissa was hovering over him with a pair of scissors and a comb, trying to trim his slightly scorched hair. "Stay still, Draco!" She chided gently just as Hermione joined them. "Do you want to end up with a bald spot? Or a missing ear?"

Draco immediately went still, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "Isn't there a spell for that?" She asked.

"Not a good one," Narcissa murmured, not looking up as she carefully trimmed the hair around her son's left ear. "Some things are best done by hand. I could do yours next if you'd like. It must weigh a ton. It would be a lot more manageable if you cut it short." Pausing in her work, she looked up at Hermione, and made a slashing gesture across her left shoulder before turning her attention back to Draco.

"Oh...I dunno. I've always kept it long," Hermione murmured thoughtfully.

"You might as well give in now," Draco muttered. "Once she gets an idea in her head..."

"Hush, you." Narcissa slapped him playfully on the back of the head.

Chuckling, Hermione sat on a nearby rocking chair. She watched quietly as Narcissa expertly transformed Draco's long, scraggly locks into a remarkably attractive, short, spiky cut, with a few slightly longer pieces hanging over his right eye. Hermione thought it was a vast improvement over the slicked back or floppy styles she'd always seen him wear in the past. Once again, she could almost see why so many girls at Hogwarts had thought he was cute. 

"Alright, you're done. Run along," Narcissa swatted Draco's shoulder affectionately after looking him over critically for a moment.

"Mum, sheesh...what am I? Five?" Draco asked sarcastically, but quickly rose from the stool. "Your turn," he said, turning to Hermione with a smug grin.

"I really don't know about this..." Hermione protested, waving her hands in front of her in an attempt to ward them both off as Narcissa turned on her as well.

"I told you, it's best to just do what she wants." Draco smirked teasingly at his mother.

"He's right, dear," Narcissa nodded, a nearly identical smirk plastered across her face, revealing which parent he'd inherited the expression from. Stepping closer, she slipped her hand around Hermione's upper arm and began tugging her gently toward the stool.

"I...uh..." Hermione reached up, anxiously touching her bun. "Are you sure?"

Narcissa pushed her down onto the stool, and quickly pulled the elastic from her hair. "Trust me, sweetheart," she murmured absently. Clicking her tongue disapprovingly, she tried to comb the tangles from the curly mass, then gave up and pulled out her wand. " _Intenglio_!"

"Forget you were a witch for a minute there, Mum?" Draco teased lightly. He had settled into the rocking chair Hermione had just vacated, sitting back to watch with an amused expression. Hermione realized this was probably payback for her own amusement at seeing him being similarly tormented.

"Don't antagonize the woman with the scissors," she requested nervously.

"Oh, I'm immune to him, darling," Narcissa tittered. Just then, Hermione felt a slight tug; with a metallic 'snick,' the weight of her hair seemed to disappear.

"Oh my god!" She half expected to find it all gone, but when she reached back frantically, she was greatly relieved to find that it still reached a few inches below her shoulders. "Oh thank goodness..."

"A little faith, dear," Narcissa chuckled, patting her comfortingly on the shoulder.

Hermione snorted. "Ironic request from someone named 'Bad Faith,' don't you think?"

Narcissa paused in whatever she was doing. Hermione hoped she was just straightening the ends of her hair, not taking more off the length. "Do you speak French, dear?" She twisted some of Hermione's hair up, and pinned it to the top of her head with a weak sticking spell as she spoke.

"Oui," Hermione nodded. "Mes parents possédaient une maison d'été près de Nice."

"Tres bien!" Narcissa trilled. "The Malfoys have a small chateaux in Lyon." She released Hermione's hair from the sticking spell, rearranged it a bit, then reattached it before make a few more cuts. Hermione was beginning to long for a mirror. "Your French is quite good. You must have spent a lot of time there."

"My grandmother taught me. My grandparents on my mother's side were from Rouen," Hermione replied faintly. Her palms were beginning to sweat, and her heart was racing over discussing her family, but she forced a pleasant smile on her face. "My Mum was born there, actually. They didn't move to Britain until she was three."

"Ah, the Rosiers were originally from that area, too," Narcissa murmured distractedly. "My grandmother taught me, as well. So, what do your parents do?" Narcissa asked curiously as she let Hermione's hair down and eyed it carefully.

Hermione swallowed hard and closed her eyes, trying to fight back tears. Suddenly, Draco spoke up, "Change the subject, Mother." His tone was a bit harsh, and it clearly wasn't a request. Hermione glanced sideways at him, and found him staring at her with a slightly perplexed expression.

"We should begin making the necessary alterations to the library soon, Draco. You've received an inquiry about the Manor through our solicitors. A German family is interested," Narcissa said, without missing a beat. Hermione had an unsettling feeling that this rapid switching of gears had been a vital self-preservation technique when Lucius and Voldemort were around. "If their offer is acceptable, we'll need to begin moving the books here, and anything else you wish to keep."

"I don't care how much they offer," Draco mumbled. "Tell the solicitors I'll accept."

"But, Draco-" Narcissa stopped working on Hermione's hair, and moved toward her son.

"The damn place positively  _reeks_ of Voldemort, and I want it _gone_!" Draco growled, jumping to his feet and storming into the house. Slamming the door behind him, he shouted, "If they want to live with his stench, they're more than welcome to it!" His voice floated back through the open window beside the door.

There was a long, awkward silence. After a few seconds, Narcissa gently stroked Hermione's hair a few times, fluffing it around her face. "You're done, run along," she whispered dully, patting her on the shoulder in a weak imitation of her previous actions with her son.

Hermione turned, and found the older witch staring sadly at the house. "Is he going to be alright?"

"You should ask him that, dear," Narcissa shrugged uncertainly. "He has his father's temper. Especially when it comes to V-Voldemort."

"It's starting, isn't it?" Hermione asked reluctantly. "What happened to his hair this morning...his magic is going wonky because of the binding magic?"

"Wonky?" Narcissa raised an eyebrow slightly, then nodded. "That seems to be an apt description. And, yes. I'd say you have no more than a few days before the effects incapacitate you." She murmured, looking away guiltily.

"You knew," Hermione whispered angrily. "You knew all along the magic would do this to us, but you let Kingsley use that ritual anyway? How could you do that to us? How could you do that to _Draco_?" Her voice grew louder as her temper flared.

"At the time, I thought he could use a bit of a nudge...to encourage him to work past the discomfort." Narcissa shrugged sheepishly.

"It's beyond mere discomfort Narcissa." Hermione struggled to keep the anger from her voice. Deep down, she understood that the other woman had been almost as fooled by her son's acting ability as those who didn't know about his condition. "He told us how it was when he tried to sleep with Pansy..."

""He told me that's all it was! And he wasn't _bonded_ to Pansy! How do we know he can't sleep with you unless he tries?" Narcissa asked impatiently.

"He _has_ tried!" Hermione blurted frustratedly. "He kissed me earlier, but it hurt him badly enough to bring tears to his eyes! It's no easier for him with me than it was with her!"

Narcissa's face crumpled. "I sincerely thought the bond would help." She sank onto the rocking chair and cradled her head in her hands. "I was only trying to help!" She whimpered fearfully. "What have I done?"

"I need you to arrange for us to speak with his healer," Hermione said, struggling to keep her voice calm and gentle. "We may have to...we may have to drug him."

Narcissa's head shot up and she looked at her sharply. "I don't think a love potion is going to help," she snorted scornfully.

"Neither do I," Hermione replied flatly. "He doesn't need to love me. He just needs to be able to touch me without feeling excruciating pain. I was thinking maybe a pain potion..."

"Those tend to inhibit male...performance," Narcissa murmured thoughtfully. Tapping her lips, she said, "On the other hand, not only is he not required to love you, nor you him, nothing says either of you actually need to...erm...find pleasure in the act." She smiled weakly.

Hermione blushed deeply, let out a nervous squeak, then cleared her throat and said, "So, he just needs to, uh..." she faltered slightly, took a deep breath and blurted, "He just needs to get it in, then? That's all?" At Narcissa's answering nod, she rolled her eyes and muttered, "How bloody archaic..."

"Well, the rules were set by men, not women," Narcissa pointed out. "No one cared way back then if the wife found her pleasure. And since arranged marriages between rich women and greedy, but impotent men were fairly common, there is no rule stating the man must come to completion, either."

"Well, I guess that's good for us, because I don't see anyone enjoying this," Hermione muttered just a tad bitterly.

Narcissa chuckled weakly. "I'll floo Healer Singh immediately. Until she arrives, perhaps you can try to get Draco to eat something. He's far, far too thin."

"You should see him in a towel," Hermione mumbled, shuddering. Ignoring Narcissa's curious look, she said, "I'll go find him. I was thinking we should pour a couple nourishing potions down his throat..."

"I've already done that, dear," Narcissa winked. "Tell him if he doesn't eat, I'll give him another."

Hermione smiled approvingly at the older woman, then nodded politely and went inside.

"Who let you in-" Melaina exclaimed, shoving her wand under Hermione's chin. "Oh, it's you..." she murmured ruefully, quickly lowering her arm. "My apologies, Ma'am. I didn't recognize you."

Hermione frowned confusedly, then touched her hair. "Oh! I haven't seen it yet. Is it that different?"

"Are daisies and roses that different?" Melaina smirked slightly. "Here..." she reached for a large silver serving platter high on a shelf and waved her wand at it. The already gleaming surface became even smoother, and she held it in front of Hermione's face.

"Merlin!" Hermione gasped. She'd almost forgotten how smooth her hair had appeared after Narcissa had cast the de-tangling spell on her the first time; now it was even more polished because of the new style. The cloud of frizzy curls that normally engulfed her head was gone, replaced by smooth, flowing waves that framed her face attractively. Unable to believe that this was really her own reflection, Hermione reached up and touched her hair. It felt incredibly soft and silky under her fingers. "That woman should open a hair salon!"

"She wanted to when she was younger. Before she married that-" Melaina bit her lip and began again, "Master Malfoy wouldn't hear of his wife working, and Master Cygnus supported his son-in-law, or perhaps I should say he supported his son-in-law's _money_. Miss Druella was quite upset, but there was nothing she could do."

"That's awful." Hermione frowned. "Things like that don't happen anymore in the muggle world. Not as often, anyway."

"Aye," Melaina nodded slightly. "And the Malfoys are a little bit behind the times even here in the wizarding world. Fortunately the young dragon seems to take after his mother."

"He'd better," Hermione growled under her breath. "I'm not cut out to be a housewife."

Melaina chuckled. Setting the tray on the counter, she set a teapot, two teacups, milk, sugar and a platter filled with fruit, cheese and croissants on it, then offered it to Hermione. "Your husband is sulking in the library," she announced with a grin.

"Thank you." Smiling gratefully, Hermione took the loaded tray and headed for the library. Because the tray was so heavy, and she was a little hesitant to attempt to levitate it after what had happened to Draco's hair, she decided to take a shortcut through the ballroom that took up most of the middle of the first floor.

Numerous portraits and other paintings lined the pale gold walls of the spacious ballroom. Hermione paused near the doors on the far wall to study a beautiful painting of the pond behind Rosier Court. A woman with long blond hair was seated on a large rock, feeding a small flock of ducks. As Hermione watched, a gust of wind rose within the scene, blowing the woman's hair into her face. When she brushed it back, she glanced over her shoulder for a moment. Hermione gasped, recognizing her as a much younger Narcissa.

"Can I take that for you?" She jumped slightly at Draco's voice, then handed the tray over with a sheepish grin. "Do you like it?" He asked, gesturing toward the painting with a tilt of his head.

"It's lovely," Hermione nodded. "It looks just like her. The artist must've been very talented."

"He was alright, but he quit painting a while back," Draco mumbled. "I'm guessing you were headed for the solarium with this?"

"I was looking for you, actually," Hermione replied. "Melaina told me you were in the library. Oh, and your Mum says if you don't eat, she'll give you another nourishing potion."

"Mother hen..." Draco rolled his eyes, but began walking toward the library. Setting the tray on a small coffee table, he motioned for her to sit on a nearby loveseat.

"She's your mother," Hermione reminded him softly, pouring them each a cup of tea. "She worries about you, and rightfully so. Draco, she's flooing your healer-"

"Ah...so we're going with the drugging me option then?" he asked, his tone probably aiming for casual, but coming out slightly strained. "That's probably your best bet if you don't want to end up a squib."

"I don't want to do this anymore than you do!" Hermione protested, blinking back tears. "I'm not worried about my magic-"

"Yes, you are," he argued, his eyes flashing angrily. "You got them to agree that you get to keep your magic if this doesn't work out, but now, because of the stupid bonding spell, you're fucked! All because I'm more of a freak than you thought!" he yelled, pacing back and forth.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "I'm not just worried about my magic. I'm worried about _you_. This isn't fair to you at all. Your life is at stake. They said we had two weeks, but this spell isn't even going to give us that long. We might've been able to figure something out if we had all of the time we were promised..."

"We would have ended up using some sort of potion eventually," Draco mumbled. "I can't just spend time with you and suddenly be immune to you. If that was possible, I would have been able to sleep with Pansy fourth year." Smiling sadly, he sat down beside her, and very briefly patted her on the knee. "It's nothing against you, personally. I think if I could ever be happy with anyone, it would probably be you. Eventually. But the most I usually feel for any one is a sort of lack of irritation. Or, in some cases, I actually find someone to be funny and interesting. Like you." He smiled wryly, "I even sort of enjoy spending time with you. But I've never felt...I don't even know what love feels like. I'm usually just...numb, unless I'm angry or scared." As he spoke, he had clenched his fists more, and more tightly, until his knuckles turned white. "You really deserve better than this." He squeezed his fists even tighter, and a drop of blood fell to the carpet below.

"You're bleeding!" Hermione grabbed his hands without thinking. There was a blinding flash of bright purple light, searing heat swept over her hands, and she was flung violently back against the arm of the loveseat.

"What is going on in here?!" Narcissa cried, rushing into the room, followed by an elegant dark-skinned woman wearing traditional Indian clothing in red, yellow and gold.

"I-I don't know," Draco stammered. "I hurt her. I didn't mean to hurt her!" He hovered anxiously over Hermione, reaching toward her with his bloodied hands, then pulling them back.

"I'm fine," Hermione insisted, sitting up and examining her palms, which were an angry red and stung like a sunburn.

"What happened?" The strange woman asked, kneeling in front of the loveseat.

"She t-touched me, and something pushed her back. My magic," Draco babbled frantically. "But I didn't mean for it to!" He hunched over in his seat dejectedly and wrapped his arms around his head.

"It's okay, Draco," Hermione reassured him gently as the woman turned toward her.

"I am Draco's healer, Jyoti Singh," she murmured, gently taking one of Hermione's hands in her own. "You must be Hermione. You're very generous to make such a sacrifice for someone you barely know."

Hermione just shrugged, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't come off sounding arrogant or phony. Instead she asked, "Are you going to be able to help him?" She gestured at Draco, who had curled into what should be an impossibly small ball, and was rocking back and forth slightly.

Healer Singh didn't answer right away. Pulling out her wand, she cast a few spells over Hermione's hands, frowning when a web of purple and white light formed around them. "Well, that's different..."

"What's different?" Narcissa asked eagerly.

"It appears that she was hit by some sort of shield charm, but I've never seen anything like it," the healer murmured. Waving her wand again, she murmured, " _Episkey_!" and the stinging sensation in Hermione's hands faded away.

"So...what does that mean?" Narcissa asked impatiently.

"I don't know yet, Missus Malfoy," Healer Singh replied, her voice a bit strained. "I really need to run some tests before I can come to any conclusions. If you could leave us alone for a few minutes..."

"Tests?" Narcissa asked worriedly. "What sort of tests?"

"I haven't seen Draco since he was thirteen, Missus Malfoy. I need to evaluate his _current_ condition before I can offer any treatments." Hesitating slightly, she added, "It might be easier for him to be completely honest with me if you're not present."

Hermione could see the mother bear stirring behind Narcissa's eyes, so she jumped up and slipped her hand through the curve of the older woman's elbow. "Let's go make some tea," she suggested, deliberately ignoring the untouched tray already in front of them. Healer Singh cast her a grateful smile.

"I'd like to run a few tests on you as well, Hermione," she said almost apologetically. "It can wait until I am finished with Draco."

"Um, alright," Hermione nodded agreeably, then gently but firmly led Narcissa from the room.

"Do you think his condition has worsened over the years?" Narcissa whispered as they took the long trek back to the kitchen.

"I don't know." Hermione answered distractedly. She was beginning to think she could institute a successful workout plan for herself consisting solely of going back and forth between the kitchen and library all day. If only Melaina didn't hand her a snack every time she entered her domain...

True to form, the housekeeper handed them each a chocolate biscuit and herded them into chairs as soon as they walked into the kitchen. "Will the Healer be staying for brunch?" She asked nonchalantly.

Narcissa didn't answer, so Hermione nodded, "I'm not sure, but I'm afraid I didn't get Draco to eat anything. He's having some sort of meltdown. The healer arrived just in time."

Melaina clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Nor did you eat anything yourself, I'm guessing? You shouldn't skip breakfast, dearie. You're on the verge of being too thin yourself."

Hermione felt her eyes bug out of her head at the endearment from the normally surly woman. "I've gained a lot over the last few months, actually. You should've seen me in May." Melaina frowned at her skeptically, so she made a show of taking a large bite from her biscuit, which melted in her mouth. "Merlin, these are even better than Molly Weasley's!"

Narcissa snorted softly, "That's ironic, because I believe Molly uses the recipe she got from her aunt Lucretia. Lucretia _Black_ Prewett," she smirked, emphasizing her own maiden name.

Hermione coughed. "The Blacks are related to the Weasleys?"

"The Prewetts," Narcissa corrected. "And only by marriage. Regulus and Sirius' paternal aunt married Molly's uncle." Narcissa shrugged as if she hadn't a care in the world, but her nervous glance toward the hallway betrayed where her thoughts really lay.

"We'll figure this out, Narcissa," Hermione murmured, patting her hand soothingly. The words sounded empty, even to her. They sat and watched the hands of a small clock on the mantle slowly tick by. The silence was disrupted only by the sounds of Melaina moving around and the rattle of pots and pans as she cooked.

Suddenly, Tibby popped into the room and curtseyed to Hermione, "Healer Singh has requested Miss' presence in the library, Miss."

"She's not a Miss, Tibby," Narcissa chuckled faintly. "She's married."

" _Please_ call me Hermione," Hermione requested as she rose to hike back to the library, knowing it was futile.

"Good luck with that," she heard Melaina mumble behind her.

Taking the shortcut through the ballroom again, Hermione reached the library in record time. She found Healer Singh alone in the room, but the elegant witch nodded her head toward the entrance to the solarium in response to Hermione's questioning look. Hermione caught a glimpse of a pale arm hanging over the side of one of the lounges there. "He's resting," Healer Singh murmured quietly. "Before he fell asleep, he gave me permission to speak with you about his condition."

"Is he alright?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"As alright as he ever is," the healer sighed heavily. "He's absolutely terrified that this binding spell will kill you both. I really must confess that his condition has me a bit perplexed."

"His symptoms are worse than most people with Falstad's, aren't they?" Hermione asked, eager to finally speak to an expert about what she'd read. "I did some research, but I haven't found anything mentioning a painful reaction to touch."

"That's true," Healer Singh nodded. "There haven't been any other patients with Falstad's in my lifetime, so I'm no expert on it, specifically, but I've spent my entire career studying and treating neurological disorders in both wizards and muggles. I've never seen anything like this." She gestured vaguely toward the solarium.

"You've treated muggles?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I'm a muggle born," Healer Singh smiled. "My mother is a neurologist and my father is a psychiatrist. I've always been fascinated by the similarities between mundane and magical neurological and psychological disorders."

"Are you sure that what Draco has is Falstad's?" Hermione asked timidly. She didn't want to insult the other woman by questioning her diagnosis. Everything she had read, however, seemed to conflict with what she'd learned about Draco.

"If you'd asked me that five years ago, I would have said, emphatically, 'Yes!' But now, I must confess that I have my doubts," the healer shrugged uncertainly. "In the past, patients with Falstad's almost always improved with age. By the time they reached adulthood, most had few if any symptoms remaining. Unless he lied to me as a child about the severity, Draco's symptoms have only gotten worse. But the strangest part is, I can't find anything physically wrong with him."

"Nothing?" Hermione blinked. "At all?"

"I performed a brain scan, and tested him for every known magical and mundane neurological disease and disorder. They all came up negative for anything...no anatomical defects, no physical damage or scarring...not in his brain, anyway. There are also no traces of dark magic residue, curses or hexes. He has some obvious psychological issues, some of them pretty intense. But I found nothing that explains why human touch causes him such pain, or why he doesn't feel stimuli that should cause him pain."

Hermione frowned, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "It really does cause him pain though, right? I don't think he could fake that sort of reaction..."

"Yes, it does. The tests confirmed that he's not faking," Healer Singh replied, looking uncomfortable.

Hermione wondered how she had tested this, but pushed the thought aside to make way for more pressing concerns. "Is there a potion or something you could give him to allow him to...to...touch someone?"

Healer Singh sighed deeply. "Traditional pain potions seem to have no effect. It's as if the pain transcends any potion I give him."

"So...it's definitely going to hurt him if we figure out a way to help him..." Hermione trailed off, blushing. She was reduced to making a rather crude gesture with her hands.

Healer Singh laughed briefly, but quickly grew serious. "I already have a solution for that not-so-little problem. There is an extremely strong potion for treating erectile dysfunction, which should affect him long enough to consummate your marriage. But yes, unless I can come up with a treatment for the pain in the next day or so, it is going to hurt. And if his magic misfires like it seems to have earlier, it could hurt you both in the process. Is your magic acting up also?"

Hermione winced, "I haven't tried to perform any magic since Draco almost fried his hair off this morning. I'm a little afraid."

"That's probably very wise of you," Healer Singh chuckled wryly. "But, just to help me judge how much time we have remaining for me to come up with something, can I have you attempt a few easy spells for me?"

"O-okay," Hermione pulled her wand from the waistband of her skirt. "Um...' _Wingardium Leviosa_!'" she exclaimed, gesturing at a small pillow on the loveseat beside the healer. It slowly rose into the air, then hovered. Hermione let out a sigh of relief, but the pillow suddenly shot across the room, hit the far wall, and exploded in a rain of fluffy white feathers. She instinctively tried to clear up the mess with a quick ' _Evanesco_!'

The feathers burst into flames.

"Well, I think that's enough for now!" Healer Singh exclaimed, banishing the smoldering remains with her own ' _Evanesco,_ ' and frowning worriedly.

"We don't have very long, do we?" Hermione whispered, her stomach sinking.

Shaking her head reluctantly, the healer murmured, "I'll send over the potion to help with..." she repeated Hermione's earlier gesture with a weak smile. "I suggest you hang onto it for now, just in case I do find something to help with the pain. But if you don't hear from me again by this time tomorrow, I'm afraid you'll have to proceed, regardless. I would suggest you both get very, very drunk."

Hermione nodded her understanding, as she suddenly felt too nauseated to speak.

"Draco will probably sleep for a few hours. The pain potions I gave him do have a sedative effect on him, if nothing else," Healer Singh cast a fond look at her unconscious patient. "I'll send over some strong nourishing potions, as well. I want him to take one a day until he gains at least ten kilograms." Standing up, she bowed slightly. "I should return to my office now and do some research. Time's literally wasting..."

"Wait!" Hermione called, finding her voice just as the other woman reached the library doors. Healer Singh paused without turning around. "What if we just gave him a strong pain potion with the other one...strong enough to knock him out. Could he just sleep through the whole thing?" As much as she didn't want to essentially molest Draco in his sleep, it was definitely more appealing than the thought of trying to have sex while he screamed in agony.

"That much pain potion would probably cancel the effect of the other potion," Healer Singh replied, her voice thick with regret. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, "I wish I had a better solution. He doesn't deserve this." With that, she quickly left the room.

Hermione stared after her, clasping her hand over her mouth. The empty doorway grew blurry, and her heart began pounding painfully in her chest. How in the world was she supposed have sex with Draco knowing that it caused him almost unbearable pain?

She didn't notice she'd dropped to her knees on the floor until she felt someone gently pulling her to her feet. A handkerchief was placed in her hand as she was pushed into an armchair.

"Don't cry, dear," Narcissa's voice murmured soothingly. "It can't be that bad. Healer Singh is a brilliant witch. I'm sure she'll find a way to help before we run out of time."

"She has something," Hermione whispered, scrubbing her face with the handkerchief. "She can give him a potion to help him...how did you describe it earlier? 'Perform'..."

"Well, there you go, then," Narcissa replied cheerfully. "Why the tears?"

"It's still going to hurt him," Hermione sniffled. "A lot. She's going to look into it some more, but so far she hasn't got anything that will work for the pain without preventing him from being able to...you know. And we've only got about a day left for her to come up with something before this stupid binding spell makes us both lose our magic, or worse!" Her eyes overflowed with tears again, and she swiped at them irritably with the already soggy handkerchief.

Narcissa stared at her silently for several minutes, then turned abruptly and walked into the solarium. A moment later, Hermione heard her sobbing quietly. Sympathetic, but uncomfortable with the other woman's raw emotions, Hermione rose and quietly crept out of the library.

She didn't feel up to speaking with Melaina, so she headed for the unused smoking room, vaguely remembering a glimpse of an especially tall window that might have been a door to the back yard. Memory served her correctly, and she soon found herself curled up on a padded wicker bench inside the gazebo. To her surprise, Crookshanks came running to join her almost immediately. Jumping up beside her, he gently nuzzled her cheek, licking away her tears before curling up on her chest. "Hello, traitor," Hermione chuckled despite herself. Burying her face in his wiry fur, she let his rumbling purr lull her into a drowsy half-sleep.

Half an hour or so later, Narcissa appeared, holding a large purse, and wearing a wide brimmed hat, sunglasses and elbow length gloves in addition to the pale lavender summer robes she'd worn earlier. "Come on," she ordered briskly. "Get up, and go get your hat, dear. It's time for some...what do the muggles call it?" She frowned thoughtfully then snapped her fingers. "Oh yes, retail therapy!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translation - "My parents owned a summer home near Nice." (Or that better be what it says, I haven't used French since college!)
> 
> Edited 7/19/15 to clarify Draco's symptoms and fix some grammar issues.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The odd spelling of "Dunkin" (instead of Duncan) is sort of an in joke between my best friend and I. I had just discovered Dunkin Donuts' Chocolate Donut flavored coffee when I started writing this, and we joked that this whole thing was just the massive amounts of chocolate and caffeine talking...

"Shopping?" Hermione stared at her mother-in-law incredulously as she rose from her seat and brushed a wrinkle from her skirt. She was pretty sure the older witch had finally cracked from all the months of worrying about her son. "You seriously want to go shopping right now?"

"Yes," Narcissa nodded vigorously. "I need new robes for your reception, and I'm assuming you do also," she said, smiling a bit wildly. "Draco is still sleeping. Melaina and Tibby will keep an eye on him."

Hermione noticed that Narcissa's jaw muscles seemed extraordinarily tense, and decided to humor the poor woman. "O-okay. But I don't have a hat, so we might as well just leave now."

"We'll have to stop at the milliner's then," Narcissa murmured, smoothing down a lock of Hermione's hair. "You can't attend an outdoor function without a proper hat, dear. This is _London_."

"Is it?" Hermione looked around the expansive grounds, which were surrounded by thick forest on three sides. "I thought we were in the country."

"We're...on the outskirts," Narcissa replied, smiling mysteriously. "Come along then." She held out her arm, elbow bent, and Hermione slipped her hand through it.

There was a slight popping sound, and her vision swam for a moment longer than usual after she felt the usual tug of disapparation. She nearly fell to her knees before Narcissa grasped her shoulders, steadying her. "Thanks. Sorry," she panted, fighting back a wave of nausea.

Narcissa kept her hands on Hermione's shoulders until she'd finally collected herself. "Is it the binding spell? Do you need to go back to him?" She murmured quietly.

Hermione realized that they were standing in front of the wizarding entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, and several people were giving them curious looks. She caught one older woman staring blatantly at the celtic knot on her wrist, and wished she'd worn long sleeves. "I'm fine. Too much sun," she answered, deliberately speaking loudly enough for the closest of the onlookers to overhear.

"Let's visit Millie's first, and find you a proper hat, darling," Narcissa announced in a grandiose tone, winking mischievously at Hermione. "Then we'll stop by Twilfitt's, and after that we'll have to split up for a bit. I still need to purchase a suitable wedding present for you and your charming husband."

Hermione barely choked back a laugh at how obviously Narcissa was playing things up for their impromptu audience. However, a few young witches, not much older than herself, were now shooting her rather envious looks, so she smiled insipidly and said, "Oh yes, I need to find something for d-d-dear Draco, as well." She barely managed to force the endearment past her lips.

Narcissa's lips twitched violently for a moment before she gave an approving nod. "Shall we, then?"

"After you," Hermione nodded politely, having absolutely no idea where the milliner's shop might be located.

Twenty minutes later, they emerged from a tidy little shop tucked away rather inconspicuously next to the Owl Emporium. Hermione's arms were filled by three large hat boxes, one of them empty due to the fact that the white straw hat it had once contained was now perched on her head. She felt ridiculous, but couldn't deny that its wide brim and cooling charm were a huge relief from the heat of the glaring sun, which was almost directly overhead.

"Stop fidgeting," Narcissa scolded quietly the third time she reached up to adjust the monstrosity. "Here we are..." she added, pulling Hermione into Twilfitt and Tattings, a notoriously expensive, and very exclusive boutique that Hermione had always avoided like the plague.

"Can't we just go to Madam Malkin's?" she pleaded quietly as a rather bored and snooty looking clerk descended on them.

"Nonsense," Narcissa replied out of the corner of her mouth. "You're a Malfoy now. You have to dress the part. At least in public," she added with a sidelong look at Hermione's simple skirt and blouse.

Hermione, who had carefully picked her current outfit in an attempt to dress more fashionably than her usual t-shirt and jeans for the sake of her new family's more formal lifestyle, bit her tongue. She cringed internally when Narcissa told the clerk that Hermione needed robes for a semi-formal outdoor reception (the clerk looked far too surprised to hear that Hermione was the bride). When Narcissa added that she would also require both day and evening robes for at least two weeks, as well as 'appropriate' undergarments, she nearly choked on her tongue.

"We'd best make most of them suitable for autumn," Narcissa mused. "There's not much left of summer...the evenings will be getting chilly soon."

"I don't really need that many-" Hermione began timidly.

"You might," Narcissa shrugged casually, motioning for the clerk, whose eyes had lit up upon smelling a huge commission, to carry out her request.

Nearly an hour later, Hermione was exhausted, and trembling under the weight of two heavy garment bags and the wretched hat boxes. Narcissa took pity on her, shrinking everything all down and tucking the items inside her own purse once they'd left the boutique. "Are you sure I need all of that just for this weekend?" Hermione moaned tiredly. Narcissa had requested that the majority of their purchases be delivered to Rosier Court after they'd been altered to fit Hermione's petite stature.

"The Zabinis may be stopping by tomorrow evening, dear," Narcissa replied cheerfully. When Hermione shot her an astonished look, she quickly added, "Only if you and Draco have managed to...well...just...managed by then. I'll cancel if you still haven't...er...if you're still not feeling well. Speaking of which, are you going to be alright while I go select your gift?"

"You're really getting us something?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "You just bought me 200 galleons worth of clothes!"

"Draco bought you 200 galleons worth of clothes, dear. I just picked them out." Narcissa grinned cheekily.

"I told him I don't want him spending money on me!" Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"But it's alright if it's coming from me?" Narcissa asked amusedly.

"Ugh... no. But you do whatever you want regardless of what I say. I should have some control over Draco, though!" Hermione muttered.

Narcissa hugged her impulsively. "Oh, I like you more every day, you darling girl!" She chuckled delightedly. "If you'll be alright for another hour, I really do intend to purchase something for you. It's a surprise, though. If you're not feeling well, I can take you back to the house first...I don't think you should apparate on your own just now."

"No, I'll be okay. I might stop for an ice cream at Fortescue's, and then I want to get something for Draco," Hermione smiled, deciding it might boost their burgeoning friendship. "I just need to stop at the bank."

"Just put everything on Draco's account, dear," Narcissa murmured slyly. "He owled Gringott's and had your name added to his accounts yesterday."

"But..." Hermione frowned.

"You can link your own account to Draco's if it would make you feel better, but believe me, it's entirely unnecessary," Narcissa snorted. "He's in no danger of running out of money. You could literally buy out ten Flourish & Blotts and not put a dent in his inheritance."

"Fine," Hermione muttered. "But I'm not buying his wedding gift with his own money. That's ridiculous."

"Fine," Narcissa mimicked her, but not unkindly. Kissing her on the cheek, she waved cheerfully, saying, "I'll meet you back here in an hour. I'll send a message if I'm running late."

"Alright," Hermione smiled affectionately after the stubborn witch, who she had to admit was growing on her as well. Rolling her eyes, she went first to Gringotts, where she arranged to have her account charged (discretely) for any purchases she made using Draco's account. The goblin behind the desk looked at her like she was mad, but she had more than enough gold in her own account to get by for several years, thanks to the money she'd been awarded by the Ministry for her role in Voldemort's death. She wasn't about to let Draco pay for _anything_...but she'd let him think he was.

After her finances were taken care of, she stopped and bought herself a mint chocolate chip ice cream at Fortescue's. As she sat and ate it at an umbrella-shaded table outside the popular shop, she noticed a sign hanging in the window of the nearby pet shop that nearly made her drop the cone in her excitement. Wolfing down the last few bites of her snack in a manner that would have done Ron proud, she ran across the street and entered the noisy little shop.

"Ah...I know you!" The middle-aged clerk behind the counter exclaimed brightly. Hermione braced herself for the usual 'war heroine, Golden Trio' spiel, but instead, the bustling little wizard said, "You bought old Crookshanks, the half-kneazle, a few years back, didn't you? How's he doing? Delightful old fellow, he was, Crooksy."

"He's...uh...still delightful." Hermione chuckled bemusedly. "Energetic," she added with a wry grin.

"Good! Good! Glad to hear it!" The wizard clapped his hands a bit. "What can I help you with today? I've got some kneazle kittens in. Full-blooded. A bit feistier than your old fellow..."

"Good lord, no!" Hermione blurted, barely suppressing a shudder at the idea of a feline more troublesome than Crookshanks. "I came to ask about the sign in the window. I just got married and my h-husband loves animals. I'm looking for a wedding gift for him, and when I saw the sign..."

"You're in luck," the clerk smiled. "We have one left. I'm afraid he's the runt of the litter, but you can barely tell. He's real affectionate, he is, but a lot of purebloods don't want the runt, just on principle."

"Draco won't care," Hermione replied confidently. "Crooks has him practically eating out of his paw, and _he_ looks like..." She trailed off, not wanting to offend the kindly wizard.

"He looks like he walked into a door a few hundred times?" The clerk grinned knowingly.

"Something like that." Hermione laughed. "So, can I see him?" She asked eagerly.

"Right this way..." the clerk flipped up a section of the counter, and led her into the back room, which smelled slightly of wet fur and clean hay. He bent over a large wooden crate in the back corner, grunting as he reached in to pick up its only occupant. "He's been a bit depressed since I sold his last sibling yesterday. Cried all night," he murmured sadly, turning around and holding up a tiny brown and white puppy with two tails. Big brown eyes, one surrounded by a brown patch, blinked up at her curiously from beneath small, floppy ears.

"Oh my goodness, he's darling!" Hermione cooed, taking the young crup and cradling it in her arms. Its twin tails began wagging frantically as it excitedly licked her chin. "I thought they had to have one tail removed by law?"

"There's a new law," the clerk stated, smiling proudly. "I helped get it passed myself a few months back. As long as you keep a special charmed collar on him that hides the second tail whenever there's Muggles about, he can keep both tails. The Ministry finally realized muggles are pretty gullible, so if there's ever an accidental sighting with the collar off, just tell 'em it's a generic mutation."

"Do you mean genetic?" Hermione asked distractedly. The puppy seemed to have taken on a mission to thoroughly licked her entire face and neck.

"That's it!" The clerk nodded cheerfully. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he frowned and said, "I'm not so sure this fellow's gonna be a good fit for your husband. His name's Draco, you said? That Malfoy kid?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat, as a wave of dread swept over her. What if he refused to sell her the puppy because of Draco's recent conviction? "Er...yes..." she answered reluctantly, preparing to hand the crup back to him.

The wizard grinned teasingly. "I remember him, always coming in and asking me if he could help out with the animals when his arsehole father wasn't around. Seemed like a good kid. But it looks like little Dunkin here is already in love with  _you_ , Missus Malfoy. I'll be getting another litter in a few weeks...you might have to send your husband in to pick out one of his own from that lot," he said with a wink.

Hermione smiled as the tightness in her chest eased. Hugging the wiggling puppy closer to her chest, she said, "I may do that. This little guy's name is Dunkin, you say?"

"Aye," the clerk nodded. "He's fifty galleons. Fair price for a full blooded crup. I've got his papers out front." He gestured slightly with his head.

"I'll take him," Hermione grinned. "And one of those collars you mentioned, a leash, food, bowls, toys...whatever he needs." She hoped Narcissa had meant it when she said she could bring as many animals to Rosier Court as she wanted.

She got her answer ten minutes later when she met her mother-in-law back in front of Twilfitt and Tattings. Taking her cue from Narcissa, she'd asked to have everything but Dunkin himself (and his leash and collar) delivered to Rosier Court in a plain box charmed to open only for her. It wouldn't do for Draco to stumble across it before she got home and ruin the surprise. She cradled Dunkin against her chest as she waited anxiously for Narcissa's reaction.

As soon as Narcissa saw the puppy in Hermione's arms, she squealed delightedly and held out her hands, taking him eagerly when Hermione passed him over. "Oh, you may have outdone me, my dear, and I didn't think that was possible. He'll love this little angel!" Kissing Dunkin on the nose, she crooned, "Yes, your Daddy is going to love you, isn't he? Yes, he is!"

Hermione laughed as she watched the normally dignified witch make ridiculous kissy faces at the puppy, who gleefully ate up the attention, both tails thrashing wildly. People were beginning to stop and point, smiling and covering their mouths as Narcissa shamelessly fawned over the puppy.

"Um, maybe we should go home and introduce him to his...daddy," Hermione suggested, snickering.

"Oh yes!" Narcissa grabbed Hermione's hand, still hugging Dunkin to her chest. "I can't wait to show you both my gifts as well..."

"Gifts? Plural?" Hermione asked suspiciously just before they disapparated.

This time she fell flat on her face, nearly vomiting before the world stopped spinning. Luckily, Narcissa had brought them to the back yard, so she'd landed on soft grass rather than the unforgiving marble tile in the foyer. Taking advantage of her surprise at Hermione's clumsy landing, Dunkin wriggled free of Narcissa's arms and took off for the trees on the western edge of the grounds.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Narcissa exclaimed, freezing him in place before he could get very far.

"Mum! You can't do that to a puppy!" Draco's angry voice rang out over the lawn just as Hermione stumbled to her feet.

"So much for my surprise," Hermione muttered sarcastically. She rushed over to Dunkin, reaching him just before the outraged blond wizard.

"Finite incantatem!" Narcissa murmured guiltily behind them.

Dunkin wriggled happily as though nothing had happened, licking Hermione's nose before she handed him to Draco. "Go easy on her. She didn't know any better, and he's fine, see?"

"Found yourself a friend, huh?" Draco asked distracted, still frowning disapprovingly at his mother.

"He's yours, actually...his name is Dunkin, but you can change it." Hermione reached over to pet the puppy's head, laughing when he flipped it completely upside down in his attempt to look at her over his shoulder. "He's still so young he probably doesn't know it yet anyway, do you Dunkin?"

Dunkin yipped at her pointedly before turning back to his 'daddy.'

The last vestiges of Draco's scowl disappeared, replaced by an awed expression as Dunkin gave his face and neck an enthusiastic tongue bath. "He's mine?" He asked softly, staring at the puppy as if he was made of gold. "Really?"

"Yes," Hermione shrugged awkwardly. "He's all yours. Call him a wedding present. It's silly, I know, but your Mum said she was getting us something, so I thought-"

"Thank you!" Draco smiled warmly at her, and even gave her a brief one armed hug, pulling away with a pained hiss. "I love him. I always wanted a dog of my own. Father had a couple of hounds for hunting, but he kept them outside and I wasn't allowed to play with them. Why does he still have both tails though?" He asked as one hit him in the chin.

"They changed the law. They make special collars now...they're charmed so muggles can't see the extra tail," Hermione explained, running her finger along Dunkin's collar. "I got him a bunch of toys, and a bed and stuff, too."

"So that must be what's in that big box that was delivered for you from the 'Magical Menagerie' a few minutes ago," Draco chuckled. "I thought that it was awfully heavy for cat food..."

"It was labelled?" Hermione grumbled. "It was supposed to be unmarked.

"It was delivered by a wizard with the store's logo on his robes," Draco explained, chuckling. Setting Dunkin down, he began following as the puppy eagerly sniffed his way around the back yard.

"Ugh...so much for discrete," Hermione snorted.

"Hey, I'm still surprised," Draco smiled gratefully at her. "It's not every day my Mum petrifies a puppy in the back yard!"

"I should hope not," Hermione laughed. Looking around, she realized Narcissa had disappeared. "Where is your Mum, anyway?"

"Probably hiding from my wrath over the aforementioned petrified puppy," Draco smirked wickedly. "She's not the only one who can go all mama...er...papa bear around here." Scooping up Dunkin, who was in imminent danger of licking a rose bush, he murmured, "You don't want to do that, little guy. Are you hungry? I bet your Mama bought you treats, and if not, you can probably beg a roast or something off Melaina with those big eyes of yours. She's a softy...you just have to know how to ask." He winked at Hermione, and headed inside.

"Why am I guessing you know from experience?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Hey, I can be very charming when I want to be, Granger," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Hermione laughed. "Somehow, I almost believe that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/19/15 to fix some grammar issues and correct for the fact that I found out recently that Lucius *did* have dogs at some point.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting ugly.

Hermione and Draco walked into the kitchen, and were immediately confronted by Melaina. "You..." she pointed at Draco. "Keep that mutt out of my kitchen. He can eat in the smoking room. And you," she turned on Hermione, "Please go help Tibby with all those packages that were just delivered for you. She's in a right tizzy wondering where to put everything."

Hermione winced guiltily and immediately headed into the hallway with Draco right behind her. A loud thump came from the direction of the foyer, where they found the house elf standing on a huge wooden box, trying unsuccessfully to pry it open. "Oh, I think that's Dunkin's things...I'm the only one who can open it..." Walking over, Hermione barely touched the lid, and it flew off, nearly hitting the crystal chandelier overhead.

"Magic is acting screwy for you, too?" Draco asked, wincing sympathetically before rooting around in the box and pulling out a small rubber ball. "Oh, look, Dunky! Fetch!" He threw the ball diagonally across the hallway and the puppy scrambled after it, his feet flying every which way on the highly polished floor.

"Maybe you should take him outside with that," Hermione suggested, giggling when Dunkin finally managed to take off, only to slide into the wall on the other side of the hallway.

"Good idea," Draco chuckled. "Accio ball!"

"No!" Hermione yelped, ducking as the ball flew past them and smashed through the right-hand window beside the front door.

"Tibby will fix it," the elf piped up. With a snap of her fingers, the shards of broken glass flew back into place. "Master Draco and Miss Hermione are maybe going somewhere else now?" She asked hopefully."And taking this thing with you?" she added indignantly, pointing at Dunkin, who was gnawing on the edge of her makeshift tutu.

"Sorry, Tibby!" Hermione struggled not to burst out laughing while Draco gently removed the crup's teeth from the damp material.

"You're trouble, aren't you?" Draco asked Dunkin playfully as he carried the puppy down the hallway.

"Let me help you with some of this, Tibby," Hermione requested, picking up a few of the larger packages.

"No magic!" Tibby squeaked nervously.

"No magic," Hermione agreed ruefully.

Tibby began shrinking packages, silently handing some of them to Hermione. Once everything was shrunk, the elf disappeared with her frail arms full of tiny packages. Hermione grunted tiredly and began the long trek through the house to the Master suite. She was helping hang up what seemed like far more than two weeks worth of clothing when her vision suddenly blurred and she swayed dizzily.

"Miss Hermione okay?" Tibby asked anxiously, pausing in the process of hanging up a set of pretty rose pink summer robes. 

"I'm okay," Hermione smiled reassuringly. "I just haven't eaten much today," she mumbled, realizing she'd only eaten an ice cream cone, and that had been almost two hours earlier.

"Tibby will go get Miss Hermione something to eat," the elf replied. Pointing at the window seat, she ordered, "Miss Hermione sits!"

"Alright, alright..." Hermione chuckled, holding up her hands in surrender as she walked toward the long padded bench. Tibby disappeared with a pop, and Hermione promptly grew light-headed and almost fell down. Staggering to the window seat, she collapsed onto the comfortable cushions and flung one arm across her forehead, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

As she waited for the dizziness to pass or for Tibby to return, whichever happened first, she heard voices in the sitting room. "Mum, I'm fine..." Draco muttered irritably.

He and Narcissa walked in moments later, the former leaning heavily on the latter's shoulder. Both were unusually pale, and neither noticed Hermione lying amongst the many pillows covering the window seat. "Bed. Now!" Narcissa ordered firmly, jabbing her finger toward the bed.

"Fine..." Draco muttered, kicking off his shoes and pulling back the covers.

Just as he crawled between the sheets, Tibby reappeared, holding a covered tray.

"That was fast..." Narcissa murmured, reaching for the tray and turning to place it on Draco's lap.

"Is for Miss Hermione! She be feeling sick!" Tibby squeaked, looking over at Hermione, who closed her eyes and bit back a groan.

"Not you, too?!" Narcissa gasped. Hermione found herself tucked in beside Draco before she knew what hit her. "That's it...I'm going to go floo Healer Singh," Narcissa murmured anxiously. Giving them a regretful look, she sighed, "I think we all know what she's going to say."

After she was safely out of earshot, Draco slid down under the covers, pulling them over his head. "Could I pay you to just Avada me?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"My magic isn't working. I'd probably just set your hair on fire again," Hermione reminded him, sighing dismally. "Do you think your Mum has any firewhiskey?" she asked hopefully.

"Oh, bloody hell!" he whimpered pitifully, pulling the covers closer around his head.

"Are you trying to smother yourself?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Maybe," he admitted. From the way the blankets moved, she thought he was probably nodding.

"Is it working?" Hermione asked, curiously.

"A little bit," he nodded again.

Hermione thought for a moment, then quickly dove under the comforter, wrapping it around her head. "How long until your mother comes back, do you think?" The air under the blankets was hot and stale, but she could still breath a bit. She figured it would take quite a while to suffocate this way.

"What are you two doing?" Narcissa's voice demanded suddenly. "Stop that!"

"Not long enough," Draco mumbled irritably.

Once Narcissa had finally managed to convince them both to emerge from their blanket cocoons (which in Draco's case took fifteen minutes of begging, bribery attempts, threats, and finally a well aimed stinging hex), she stood at the foot of the bed, nervously wringing her hands together. "I spoke with Healer Singh..." she began, but trailed off, staring vaguely in the direction of Draco's right foot. She'd had to banish the blankets once he'd finally let go.

"Well?" Hermione blurted after what felt like several hours had passed. In real time, it was probably mere seconds, but everything seemed to be dragging on ridiculously slowly; and yet far, far too quickly at the same time. "What did she say?" She demanded shrilly, giving in to her growing panic.

"I think you know what she said," Narcissa answered regretfully. "Since you're both now experiencing physical symptoms in addition to your magic being compromised, she thinks it is time to..." she swallowed thickly and turned to Draco. "It's time. While you still _can_."

"No," Draco's voice cracked. "It's not that bad yet. We can probably wait until tomorrow morning."

"It's only three o'clock in the afternoon, sweetheart," Narcissa murmured tearfully. "You won't last until midnight..."

"What happens if we don't do it?" Hermione asked. "What if we just ignore it, and try to wait the two weeks?" She knew it wasn't an option, but wanted to drive that point home for Draco, without having to be the one to remind him of the consequences. Sometimes she wondered if she wasn't a little bit Slytherin herself...

"You'll end up in a coma within hours. Now that the physical weakness and nausea have begun to set in, your condition will deteriorate rapidly." Narcissa all but whispered. "As far as the Ministry deadline...ten days from now you'll most likely be dead."

"What if we just wait until after I pass out..." Draco mumbled.

"No," Narcissa replied with a shake of her head. "Healer Singh actually looked into the possibility of something like that, but in order to legally consummate the marriage, you _both_ have to be fully conscious." A quick eye roll gave away her opinion of that rule.

Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have agreed _completely_ with that particular requirement, but now it just seemed cruel.

"What about alcohol?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Oh, you can get as drunk as much you want, as long as neither of you passes out," Narcissa smiled weakly.

"I was completely pissed when I tried to shag Pansy!" Draco shouted frustratedly. "It won't help!"

"Speak for yourself," Hermione muttered flatly, then clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Well, maybe it will help you to forget about it after the fact," Narcissa suggested quietly.

"There won't be anything to forget," Draco growled vehemently. "I'm not doing this!" He climbed off the bed and promptly fell to his knees. Narcissa rushed to his side and tried to pull him to his feet, but he curled up in a ball and began rocking back and forth.

"Draco, please," Narcissa begged, tugging fruitlessly at his right arm.

"It'll only take a few seconds," Hermione pointed out meekly.

"Oh yeah?" Draco snarled, startling both women by leaping to his feet. "How would you like it if I just shoved a hot poker in your-"

"Draco Malfoy!" Narcissa bellowed. "Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!"

"...whatever," Draco mumbled, plopping down on the side of the bed. "I bet a few seconds wouldn't seem so easy then."

Narcissa shifted her weight slightly, and Draco pinned her with a suspicious glare. "What? There's something you're not telling me!"

Narcissa bit her lips, glancing briefly at Hermione as if seeking backup, then back at Draco. Taking a deep breath, she mumbled, "It could take up to five minutes."

"What?!" Hermione shrieked, her heart nearly bursting from her chest. "Why?"

"The amount of time it takes for the spell to formally register the consummation with the Ministry varies. Sometimes it's almost immediate, but other times..." Narcissa trailed off. "You'll know it's done when the mark is completely formed..." she indicated Hermione's right wrist with her chin.

"It could really take five minutes?" Hermione asked, her voice quivering. She suddenly felt like she might vomit.

"Nope," Draco stood up aburptly and began walking toward the doors. "Fuck that. I'm going to go call the dementors. I'm not doing it."

" _Immobulus_!" Narcissa hissed, waving her wand at him. Thick ropes immediately enveloped him, and he fell to the thickly carpeted floor with a muffled thud. " _Mobilicorpus_!" She flicked her wand viciously and he rose in the air and floated back to the bed. Another rapid flick of her wrist and he was suddenly bound hand and foot to the bed.

"Narcissa, you can't do that!" Hermione protested, reaching for the ropes.

" _Impedimenta_!" Narcissa growled. Hermione was thrown completely off the bed, landing on her back on the floor hard enough to knock the air from her lungs.

"Mum!" Draco gasped, his eyes wide as he stared at his mother as if he'd never seen her before. "Please, stop. I'll-"

" _Silencio_ ," she murmured, and his voice cut off.

Hermione groaned and crawled back to the bed. She still had her wand in the waistband of her skirt, but knew it was useless to try to use it. It took all of her strength to pull herself back up on the bed.

"I can't let you give up, Draco," Narcissa murmured tearfully. "I won't let you." Pulling a small flask of blue liquid from her pocket and removing the cork, she glared warningly at Hermione. "Don't you dare try to interfere."

"Interfere?" Hermione squeaked. "Are you completely mad? What are you going to do if I try? Kill me? You _need_ me, but I'm not doing anything against his will..." Noticing movement in the doorway behind Narcissa, she slowly crawled forward, getting between the other woman and her son. She ended up crouched over Draco with her knees on one side and her hands on the other. "Take the spells off him, and give me the potion," she murmured, trying to keep her voice soothing.

"Hardly," Narcissa snorted scornfully. "Get away from him!"

"Make up your mind...do you want me to get away from him, or shag him?" Hermione snapped sarcastically, then winced. So much for trying to sound calm.

Narcissa frowned confusedly for a moment, her posture relaxing slightly.

" _Stupefy_!" Melaina shouted, leaping into the room, waving her wand frantically. Her form was a bit rough, but Narcissa slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Hermione watched the vial fall from Narcissa's suddenly limp fingers, tumbling slowly toward the carpet. Tibby appeared out of nowhere and caught it just before it tilted to the point of spilling. "Master is needing this?"

Hermione and Melaina turned toward Draco, who had his eyes screwed shut, trembling from head to toe. Melaina waved her wand, and the ropes disappeared. "Draco, what do you want to do?" Hermione sat back on her heels beside him and waited patiently.

He slowly opened his eyes and stared at her. "If we don't do this, you'll die too," he whispered.

Hermione winced, then shrugged. "I think I'd rather die than be the Ministry's volunteer rapist."

"It's not like that...we didn't know about the effect of the bonding ritual, but I knew all along it was going to come down to this eventually." Draco shook his head. Glancing at Narcissa, he said, "It would destroy her if I died."

"Yes," Hermione nodded agreeably. "That is quite obvious."

He smiled wryly. "And your parents, too." He added softly.

"My parents are dead," Hermione muttered, then let out a hopeless sob. It was the first time she'd admitted aloud.

"You don't know that for sure!" Draco shook his head emphatically. "I saw a few of your memories about them, and I've been thinking. I think there's a chance they're still alive. Last year, my father and some of the others made three trips to Australia, and they never came back looking particularly happy. Where did you send them?"

"Adelaide," Hermione mumbled reluctantly.

"Father was sent to Brisbane, Melbourne and Perth," Draco smiled weakly. "I remember him bitching about what a huge waste of time it was. I don't think your parents were killed, Hermione. I think they just...wandered off. We just need to look harder."

"Really?" Hermione asked, feeling a slight flicker of hope for the first time in months.

"Yes, really." He nodded firmly. "Besides, we can't leave Dunkin with my Mum. She's nutters. Likely to turn him into a lawn statue."

Hermione laughed despite herself. "So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I had a completely embarrassing panic attack, which obviously triggered a truly _frightening_ one in my Mum..." he glanced over at Narcissa, whom Melaina had moved to the window seat, and grimaced. Turning back to Hermione, he said, "I guess I'm saying...we're going to need that potion."

Hermione slowly let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Turning to Tibby, she said, "You heard him, hand over that potion."

Tibby smiled slightly, and offered the vial to Draco.

"I'll just move Cissa to her bedroom..." Melaina blurted abruptly. She nearly tripped over her own feet as she quickly levitated Narcissa out of the room.

"Master be needing anything else?" Tibby asked, already creeping toward the door.

"Um...alcohol?" Draco glanced questioningly at Hermione.

After considering it for a minute, she shook her head. "No, it's not really fair. You don't get anything..."

"You sure?" He raised an eyebrow dubiously.

"I'm sure," Hermione nodded.

"Master isn't needing anything?" Tibby asked eagerly.

"Please put a silencing spell on that door," Draco requested politely. "And you might want to come check on us if you don't hear from us in an hour or so."

"How will Tibby hear from Master if there is a silencing spell on the door?" Tibby's face scrunched up in confusion.

Hermione bit her cheek so hard she tasted blood, but at least she didn't laugh.

Draco coughed (it sounded suspiciously like a giggle), and said, "If everything goes well, we'll come get you before then. Otherwise, come check."

"Okies!" Tibby squeaked, and bolted for the door, slamming it behind her.

Draco turned slowly to Hermione, nervously licking his lips. "So..." his voice cracked.

"So," Hermione nodded. She realized her hands were shaking and quickly shoved them under her arms.

"How are we going to do this?" Draco asked in a small voice.

"I haven't the slightest clue," Hermione admitted sheepishly. He raised an eyebrow, and she stammered, "Well...I have a slight clue...but I've only done it once, and he had done it before..."

"We'll just have to figure it out as we go, then. Here goes nothing..." Draco raised his hand in a mock toast, then swallowed the potion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's horrible, but it's really a horrible situation. Malfoys not handling a stressful situation well? Shocking... ;-)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be upsetting for some readers. It's not exactly rape, but I think the best you could describe it as is consenting under duress. (For both parties). Please don't read it if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable. You can still keep up with the plot without it. In a nutshell...they have sex so the bonding spell won't kill them. It is really, really horrible (extremely painful for Draco), and Hermione feels terrible afterward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time with this chapter. When I tried to write it in my usual style, I just couldn't do it, so I finally had to resort to this weird sort of flashback-y thing. I know it's not good, but I was really, really uncomfortable with it. I wrote it at least 6 months ago, but even now I'm having trouble just going over it for typos so I can post it. I toyed with just leaving it out, but it is sort of important to the plot. At least now this particular awfulness is behind them...
> 
> Edited 7/19/15 - Just a few changes to polish it up a little bit. Nothing major.

Hermione wasn't really sure how it happened, but she found herself in Harry's bedroom at the Burrow approximately an hour later, sobbing brokenly into her best friend's careworn flannel shirt.

"'Mione, please stop crying!" Harry begged. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

Hermione sniffled loudly, accidentally getting snot on his shirt, and began crying even harder. "I'm h-h-ho-ho-hor-r-r-" she stuttered. Horrible. She was a horrible person. It was a good thing Harry hadn't understood anything she'd said so far. If he had, he'd probably never speak to her again.

"What? Whore?" Harry's voice grew a bit harsher. "Did someone call you a whore? Was it Malfoy?" He said the name with all the venom he'd formerly imbued it with. "I should've known that git was just using you! I should go teach him a lesson..." Hermione shook her head frantically, reaching for his arm, and felt a gentle hand on her wrist. Harry went still. Then, "You slept with him." It wasn't a question, and she realized he'd seen the markings on her wrist.

Hermione wailed loudly, and buried her face in his chest, fighting back a wave of nausea as her mind stubbornly replayed everything, with a horrible clarity.

***

They'd decided it would probably be easiest if she was on top. They hadn't even removed all of their clothing, only what was absolutely necessary...just her underpants, really; his trousers and boxers were merely shoved to his knees. She knew she'd never be able to forget the way his expression had quickly changed from stoic, to uncomfortable, to agitated; how he'd bitten his lip almost hard enough to draw blood as they'd both stared, unblinking at the markings on her wrist, waiting, motionless for the last few lines to fill in.

She had glanced at her watch when he let out the first pained gasp, then quickly bit his lips, pinning them together between his teeth, stubbornly refusing to look her in the eye as he'd begun to let out tiny moans and whimpers. (It had been 27 seconds)

By 43 seconds, he'd been in obvious distress; tears rolling down his cheeks, as he began to squirm beneath her. She'd struggled not to move at all when he began to emit low animalistic growling sounds, his eyes screwed tightly shut as his back arched, and his lips finally began to bleed from the pressure of his teeth.

At 50 seconds, he'd let out an anguished scream, and she'd had to close her eyes, clutching the headboard of the bed in an attempt to lesson his torture by eliminating any points of contact other than the one that seemed like it might kill him all on its own. He'd almost thrown her off, but she'd be damned if they did all of this for nothing. They sure as hell weren't starting over at that point.

Her determination had taken a real hit when he started begging her to leave him alone. She wasn't sure how long it had been when he had finally broken down (she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes and check her watch, even though she probably should have been keeping an eye on the marks on her other wrist). She'd had to release the headboard in order to cover her ears, blocking out his frantic pleas and whimpers. Of course, that had forced her to clamp down on his legs with her own to keep him from throwing her off the bed, and his cries had grown even more pained. He'd begged her, sobbing, to just kill him.

She never, ever wanted to hear her name from his lips again.

Then, _finally_ , just when she decided she really would actually rather die after all than put him through another second of this torture, she'd felt a strange, intense pulse of magic through her lower abdomen, shocking her to the core. When it finally passed, Draco had gone limp.

Her eyes had flown open, glancing first at her watch. It had been two minutes and thirty eight seconds. _Seriously_? Then, she had looked at the now-completed markings on her right wrist, and immediately scrambled off him, grimacing as he slipped out of her.

She'd taken one horrified look at his narrow, sweat-drenched chest as he struggled to draw a deep breath, then shifted her gaze to his pale, tear-stained face and bloodied lips. His eyes began to open, and, unable to face him, she'd turned on the spot, apparating away.

***

The memory alone suddenly made her feel unbearably dirty. Pulling away from Harry, she retreated to the second floor bathroom for a much needed bath.

"I don't know what to do, Lu! She wouldn't stop crying, and now she won't come out of the loo!" Harry's frantic words drifted through the bathroom door some time later.

Hermione was sitting in the bathtub with her arms wrapped around her knees. She'd begun shivering because the water had finally cooled from scalding hot to lukewarm about twenty minutes earlier. She just couldn't bring herself to face anyone yet.

A soft knock on the door signaled that it was now Luna's turn to attempt contact. But after finally crying herself out, Hermione had decided that civilization was probably better off without her, so she ignored the younger witch. She just hoped the Weasleys could survive without their only bathtub for a while.

"Hermione? I'm coming in!" Luna called through the door.

"Good luck with that..." Hermione muttered sarcastically.

Seconds later, the lock released with a soft click, the knob turned, and Luna stepped inside. "Hello, Hermione," she murmured softly.

"Well...fuck!" Hermione muttered, sighing heavily and wrapping her arms more tightly around her legs.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Luna moved closer, closing the lid of the toilet and sitting down.

"What  _isn't_ wrong?" Hermione muttered irritably.

"Oh..." Luna crossed her legs and sat back, evidently preparing to think about it. "Well, Harry and I are going to go see a play about faeries tomorrow night. And I finally found my other radish earring..."

Hermione laughed despite herself. Granted, it came out as more of a snort. "How do you do that, Lu?"

"Do what?" Luna asked curiously.

"Stay so optimistic all the time. You can find joy in any little thing...like radish earrings." Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, suppressing another shiver.

"Well...the earrings are small things, but Harry's not," Luna smiled dreamily. "He's quite the opposite, actually."

"Way too much information, Lu," Hermione grimaced.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that!" Luna exclaimed after a few seconds. Grinning mischievously, she murmured, "Although it's certainly true. He fits me perfectly, in a lot of ways. The sex is amazing!" She sighed dreamily. "It's probably because we're soul mates."

Hermione jerked guiltily, sloshing water over the edge of the tub. "I don't want to talk about amazing sex!" she yelped. "I mean, I don't want to talk about sex, period."

Luna glanced pointedly at the markings on Hermione's wrist. "Is that what's wrong? Harry told me last night that you and Draco hadn't completed the bond yet, but I see that you have now."

"Very observant," Hermione muttered dryly, rolling her eyes.

"He said Draco was sick or something, so you were waiting? Did he not have a chance to get better before you had sex?" Sometimes Hermione really didn't like how perceptive Luna could be.

"Not exactly, no," Hermione shook her head reluctantly. "The bonding spell forced us to. Our magic was practically gone, and we both started feeling really ill. His healer said we had to go ahead and consummate the marriage before we both ended up in a coma or dead." Hermione couldn't seem to stop talking now that she'd begun.

"So...you're upset that your first time with him was while you were both feeling poorly?" Luna asked quietly. "I can see how that would be upsetting, but you have years ahead of you for things to improve..."

"No, that's not it," Hermione's chest tightened painfully with guilt, and she finally blurted, "It hurts him unbearably to be touched, because of his...injuries." At least she still had the presence of mind to lie. "He was screaming by the end, but I made him keep going until the bond was complete! I practically h-held him down and r-raped him!" She choked back a sob, but had no more tears left.

Luna blinked, looking as troubled as Hermione had ever seen her. "But if he was truly in that much pain, he couldn't have maintained an erection. The second time Harry and I made love, he rolled over on a pincushion I'd left on my bed. Let me tell you, he was just...done after that." She shuddered, and made a face that normally would have made Hermione laugh.

"First...ew," Hermione shuddered, sticking out her tongue disgustedly. "Second, no more details about you and Harry. Ever. And third, Draco was in so much pain, his healer had to give him a really strong potion for treating...um...erectile dysfunction, just for him to get through it!"

"And he took it willingly, knowing what it was?" Luna asked, narrowing her eyes.

"After his initial panic attack, yes," Hermione nodded.

"And you both knew before you agreed to the marriage that if you didn't have intercourse before the spell fully took effect, you could both die?" Luna cocked her head to one side confusedly.

"Well, I knew when we got married that if we didn't consummate before the ministry deadline, he could be executed, and I might lose my magic. I didn't know about the possible effects of the binding spell itself, though. Narcissa did, and I think maybe Draco did, too." Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "Why so many questions?"

"I'm trying to figure out if you have a legitimate reason for feeling guilty, but as far as I can tell, you're just being silly." Luna shrugged dismissively. "You were just trying to help him, you didn't realize this could happen when you agreed. If anyone should feel guilty, it's Minister Shacklebolt."

Hermione stared at her friend, slowly letting her words sink in. "But...there's more."

"What?" Luna asked, almost impatiently.

"It felt kind of...good?" Hermione flushed guiltily.

Luna raised an eyebrow. "The entire time, or just near the end?"

"What difference does that make?" Hermione asked irritably.

Luna's eyebrow crept higher, but she said nothing, just continued to stare at her pointedly.

"Okay, it felt maybe a little bit good at the beginning. I mean, before he started screaming, of course." Hermione grimaced. "But at the end, right before the symbols filled in, he was in agony, even though I was trying to stay still, and not touch him any more than necessary. I was about to give up, actually. I couldn't stand to see him like that anymore..." She swiped at her cheek as a stray tear suddenly trickled down. "Then, all of the sudden, there was this strong surge...it felt like pure magic...and I-" she groaned, and covered her face with her hands, unable to continue.

Luna threw back her head and laughed. "That's what has you tied up in knots? You're beating yourself up over an orgasm?!" She bent over and clutched her stomach, laughing hysterically.

"He was suffering horribly, and I managed to get off anyway!" Hermione snarled. "What kind of horrible person could be so callous? So insensitive?"

"You were sincerely worried about him! The spell sensed it, so it rewarded you with pleasure," Luna shrugged. "I bet you didn't even ask him if he came too?"

"Of course he didn't!" Hermione snorted scornfully. "He was in agony until..." she froze, thinking it over. He had stopped screaming right after the magic surge, but he didn't seem to lose consciousness. He'd just...relaxed, even while she was still touching him. She peeked up at Luna.

"Mmm hmm," Luna smirked wickedly, and Hermione suddenly wondered just how much of the younger witch's flighty, serene persona was really an act. "Go home. Talk to him. You might want to have another go sometime. I bet it would be amazing."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione had given up on trying to blow her friend off.

"Well, because that spell was created for arranged marriages, it only...rewards..." she wiggled her eyebrows, "...couples who have the potential for true love, who demonstrate that they are capable of truly caring about one another," Luna explained, smiling serenely. The clock in the kitchen chimed just then, and she stood up abruptly. "I'll leave you alone so you can get dressed and go home. Harry and I need to get on with our evening. This is the last night before the Weasleys return, and I don't want to waste it."

Hermione nodded absently, barely registering when the door opened and closed behind her friend. Her mind was whirling confusingly. She had a sad sort of feeling that if their situation were different, Luna might be right; maybe she and Draco could have developed real feelings for each other some day. She bit her lip as she remembered Draco saying almost those exact words earlier in the day. But now, he'd probably want nothing to do with her.

Pulling the plug on the frigid water, she finally crawled out of the tub, dried off as quickly as possible (though she hesitated to use a drying spell), and dressed in her badly wrinkled blouse and skirt (realizing in the process that she'd left her underwear at home). After eventually building up the courage to cast ' _Intenglio_ ' on her hair, she wandered into the hallway.

Some rather embarrassing, but thankfully muffled noises from the third floor told her that it was not a good time to say goodbye to Harry and Luna, so she just went downstairs. Not trusting herself to apparate again in her current state, she threw a handful of floo powder into the Weasley's soot covered fireplace, shouted her destination, and stepped through to Rosier Court.

Two pairs of worried eyes, one gray and one blue, looked up in unison the moment she stepped foot on the immaculate white marble hearth of the front sitting room.

"Oh thank Merlin! You came back!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It might not seem like it, but there are still problems ahead!

Swallowing nervously, Hermione nodded at Draco, who had jumped up and rushed toward her. "Of course I came back. I just needed time to clear my head."

"I think we all did." He glanced pointedly at Narcissa, who was staring intently at her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap. Leaning closer, he whispered, "She feels terrible."

"She's not the only one," Hermione muttered. "Are you...okay?" She whispered hesitantly, afraid to look him in the eyes. Despite her reassuring conversation with Luna, her guilt and doubts were creeping back upon seeing him face to face.

"I'm fine," he whispered emphatically. "Don't you dare beat yourself over this. We did what we had to do, and now we can get on with our lives without it looming over our heads all the time." She peeked at his face, and he smiled mischievously. "Besides, it was even kind of good at the end, right?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then whispered, "Did you really...you know? I wasn't sure..."

"I did," he admitted, blushing slightly. "I don't know what happened, it just suddenly stopped hurting and..." he mimicked an explosion with his hands, "Boom!"

Hermione giggled. "It stopped hurting? Do you think that's permanent?" she asked hopefully. She decided not to tell him what Luna had told her about the binding spell 'rewarding' them. At least for now.

Draco shrugged, then cautiously reached for her hand. Hermione held her breath, but when their fingers touched, he winced and pulled away. "I'm afraid that's a no," he murmured.

"I'm sorry," Hermione sighed.

"It's alright, I'm used to it." He shrugged dismissively, and swept his fingers through his hair.

Just then, Narcissa finally rose and approached them. "Hermione, I hope you will accept my sincerest apologies for my behavior earlier," she murmured earnestly. "It was inexcusable. I was completely and utterly-"

"Terrified," Hermione interjected gently. Patting her lightly on the shoulder, she smiled and said, "Any mother would have panicked. I understand completely. No apologies necessary."

Narcissa let out a sigh of relief, smiling happily. "Thank you, dear. Now if Tibby will just stop shrieking whenever I walk into a room..."

Hermione chuckled. "She did seem a bit traumatized by the whole thing."

"Well, I think we could start a club," Draco drawled, looking a little bit embarrassed. "I'm pretty sure that the only ones in the house that were unaffected were Crooks and Dunkin."

"Where are they, anyway?" Hermione asked, realizing a bit guiltily that she had forgotten all about their new puppy.

"Oh, you have to see this. It's adorable!" Narcissa grabbed Hermione's wrist and dragged her to the so-called smoking room. Dunkin's bed, food and water dishes, and toys had all been arranged there. A wooden gate, suspiciously similar to a muggle baby gate, now blocked the doorway. Narcissa opened the gate, and ushered Hermione inside. "Shhhh!" the older witch held a finger to her lips, then tiptoed over to the big fluffy bed and peeked in, smiling tenderly.

Hermione followed suit, and her heart melted. Crookshanks was lying on his side, looking up at her with an expression that blatantly dared her to say something about the fact that the young crup was curled up under his chin, sound asleep. "Awwwwww!" she exclaimed quietly. Crookhanks' tail twitched irritably.

"They've been like that for at least an hour," Narcissa whispered amusedly.

Dunkin shifted in his sleep, and Crookshanks hissed at them. Giggling, both women tiptoed out of the room. They found Draco in the kitchen, eating a sandwich.

"That's the most I've seen you eat since you came home," Narcissa smiled approvingly, and teasingly mussed his hair before walking outside. With his new haircut, this only made it look stylishly tousled. Hermione swallowed hard as she felt a sudden unexpected twinge of affection for the blond wizard. It had to be the marriage bond. Or because they had...sort of...had sex. That had to be it...she was just feeling emotional after everything that had happened earlier.

Melaina suddenly loomed in front of her, gently forcing a plate with another sandwich into her hands. "Eat."

Draco smirked and patted the chair beside him. Hermione smiled back, feeling strangely shy, and sank down beside him. She managed to force down the first few bites, then realized she was absolutely starving, and began to eat with gusto. She kept sneaking glances at Draco as he started on a second sandwich. "So...now what?" She asked hesitantly between bites.

"Um...dessert?" Draco asked, a bit too innocently. "I was thinking ice cream."

"You know what I meant," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know," he answered softly. "We just...move on I guess. I never really thought about what would happen after the war. I really assumed I'd be dead by now."

Hermione frowned, but decided to let that depressing revelation go for now. "Well...I've arranged to take my NEWTS in December. I'm sure Minerva would let you take them, too. After that I want to..." she trailed off, remembering the conversation she'd had with Melaina about Narcissa's unfulfilled dream to open a hair salon. She didn't think Draco was as sexist as his father, but wasn't sure she could handle an argument right now if it turned out he was.

"You want to...what?" he asked, smiling encouragingly. "I'm sure you can do anything you set your mind to. You're probably the smartest person I know.

"I want to go to University and become a barrister," Hermione murmured, blushing at his unexpected compliment.

"Oh." He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment. "Is it because of what happened to me? To _us_ really..."

"Not really, but all of this certainly hasn't dissuaded me," Hermione smiled sympathetically. "I've been thinking about it ever since I met your Mum's cousin, Sirius. Most of his life was wasted in Azkaban, and he barely even got a trial. It wasn't fair."

"I think you'd be good at it," Draco said, finishing his sandwich and pushing his plate away. Melaina immediately set a bowl of strawberry ice cream in front of him, and he flashed her a grateful smile.

"So...what about you?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I'd like to take my NEWTS." Draco poked at his ice cream with his spoon. "Then, well..it's probably silly, and I haven't even looked into how to go about it..."

"Tell me," Hermione urged, leaning towards him slightly.

"I'd like to learn how to take care of animals. To become a healer for them, I mean," he admitted reluctantly. "I probably should've been nicer to Hagrid," he mumbled, wincing.

"Well, yes," Hermione bit back another comment about Buckbeak. "Muggles have special doctors...healers...for animals, called veterinarians. I've never heard of anything like that in the wizarding world, but they must exist. I bet you could ask the owner of 'Magical Menagerie' to write you a recommendation for University. He remembers you helping him in the shop. Rather fondly, in fact."

Draco blushed, "He told you about that?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled. "I mentioned my husband's name was Draco, and he asked if I meant you. He practically raved about you, and he seemed really glad Dunkin was going to live with you." She pushed her empty plate away, and was immediately presented with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. She smiled at Melaina, who winked back before returning to the large mixing bowl she'd been working over.

"Really?" Draco seemed quite pleased, and Hermione felt another twinge of affection for him.

"Yes, Draco," she nodded firmly. "Despite your best efforts, not everyone believes you're a complete arse."

"Darn, I must be slipping," he muttered sarcastically.

"You've been distracted." Hermione smiled at him teasingly. "I'm sure you can convince everyone you're an arse in no time, especially with all this free time on your hands."

"I think I'll pass on that, thanks. I'd rather stay out of Azkaban." He rolled his eyes, but Hermione had a strong suspicion that he really didn't like how most people perceived him. "Besides, I'll be busy clearing out the Manor. That's going to take a while. I can't risk the new owners stumbling across one of my Father's little 'surprises'...someone could get hurt."

"I can help you with that," Hermione offered. "I bet we can get Bill Weasley to help, too."

"Isn't he the oldest one?" Draco asked curiously. "Why him?"

"He's a curse breaker," Hermione explained. "He works for Gringotts."

"No." Draco frowned suddenly. "Forget about it. I'll find someone else."

"Why?" Hermione asked, confused by his sudden shift in mood. "Is it because he's a Weasley?" She frowned back, really irritated that he was still holding a grudge against her second family.

"No. It's because I just remembered that he was attacked by Greyback the night I let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. It's my fault he's scarred for life. I will not ask a favor of him," Draco said firmly, shaking his head.

Hermione bit her lip. She hadn't thought of that. "What if I just talk to him? Maybe he can at least recommend someone..."

Draco thought for a moment. "I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if you just ask him for a recommendation..."

"I'll owl him first thing in the morning," Hermione informed him, then yawned uncontrollably.

Draco yawned back, and they both chuckled."You, too, huh?"

"Long day," Hermione mumbled, blushing.

"Massive understatement," Draco muttered, then winked. "I don't think anyone would blame us for going to bed a bit early."

Hermione bit her lip as a troubling thought occurred to her. "Um...about that...what about our, uh, sleeping arrangements?" She assumed that now that they'd gotten the consummation requirement out of the way, he'd want her to move to another room. She hoped maybe she could take one of the empty suites on the second floor. The only other bedroom on the third floor with an attached bath was clearly intended to be used as a nursery, but she'd already gotten a bit spoiled by the luxury of having an en suite.

"Um...what about them?" Draco asked blankly.

"Well, don't you want me to get out of your room?" Hermione asked reluctantly.

"What? Why?" He seemed sincerely confused.

"We were sharing so we could get to know each other. So we could...you know..." Hermione trailed off, turning beet red.

"No, we're sharing a bedroom because we're _married_ , and that's what married couples do," Draco said, sounding a bit offended. "I can't believe you thought I'd just kick you out because we've had sex. That's pretty backwards, really. So unless _you_ want to kick * _me_ out, I see no reason to change anything."

"I thought...don't I make you uncomfortable?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Draco frowned thoughtfully. "Strangely, no. Other than when we shagged, of course; that just sucked. But I assume you're not planning to jump me in my sleep?" He asked, grinning mischievously.

Hermione snorted. "I think I can resist the urge, as hard as that might be. That skeletal look you've got going on  _is_ pretty appealing..." She pretended to look him over, but had trouble keeping a straight face.

He blinked at her, then burst out laughing. Hermione began giggling at his reaction, and soon they were both laughing hysterically.

"Alright, if you're done eating, get out of my kitchen," Melaina ordered gently. "I need to roll out the dough for tomorrow's pastries, and you're hogging my table."

"Oooh...can you make some of those chocolate croissants you used to make when Grandmother and Grandfather were alive?" Draco asked eagerly.

"Of course, dearie," Melaina smiled indulgently. Turning to Hermione, she asked, "Is there anything in particular that you'd fancy, pet?"

"Actually, those chocolate croissants sound heavenly." Hermione grinned.

"Well that's convenient," Melaina chuckled. Making shooing motions, she said, "Alright, out of my kitchen!"

"Let's go check on Dunkin," Draco suggested when they entered the hallway. Hermione nodded, and they turned toward the rear of the house. When they approached the smoking room, they heard the click of tiny clawed feet running around, then excited yipping, followed by a deep 'meooooow'.

"Sounds like Crooks is getting a little tired of his new companion," Hermione snickered.

"Nah...he's trying to tell us his friend needs to go out," Draco chuckled. Sure enough, Crooks was waiting at the baby gate, apparently too dignified to jump over it to come find them. He glared daggers at them as soon as they turned the corner and came in sight of the smoking room door.

Draco stepped over the gate and scooped Dunkin up in his arms while Hermione, who was too short to step over it, quickly opened the gate and slipped into the room. "Hello, baby boy! Do you need to go potty?" Draco crooned, holding the wiggling puppy up to his face. Dunkin licked his nose, his tails thrashing about ecstatically.

Hermione found the puppy's leash hanging on a hook by the outside door, and attached it to his collar. "Okay...he's good to go," she nodded.

Draco opened the door and put Dunkin on the ground. Dunkin almost yanked him off his feet in his rush to the nearest bush. As he raised his leg beneath the leafy branches, Hermione mumbled, "Sheesh...when he's gotta go, he's gotta go!"

Draco smiled embarrassedly. "If he's this strong already, we may be in trouble," he admitted, laughing.

"You seem kinda..." Hermione struggled to find the right words. "Uh...less uptight? Almost happy even." He definitely seemed more upbeat than she'd seen him in ages, demonstrating more of the rare flashes of dry, snarky humor she'd come to appreciate over the last few days.

Draco shrugged uncertainly. "I'm not stressed out right now. I guess I'm probably happy," he mused, shrugging again.

Hermione frowned at his inability to identify how he was feeling, but said nothing.

After following the energetic puppy around the back yard until he flopped onto his stomach, panting breathlessly, Draco looked like he was about to drop dead on the spot. "Definitely time for bed," he moaned, leaning against a tree with his eyes closed.

"I think we should let Dunkin sleep in our room," Hermione said tentatively, not sure how Draco would react to her suggestion. "It's his first night in a strange place. What if he has to go out, and no one hears him?" she asked worriedly.

Draco chuckled, "I was thinking the same thing, but I was afraid to suggest it."

"That's why I'm the Gryffindor," Hermione winked teasingly. 

He laughed lightly, nodding his head. "No one would ever question _that_."

After dragging themselves, and half of Dunkin's things up both flights of stairs, they both collapsed on the bed, not even bothering to change their clothes. Right before she fell asleep, Hermione felt Dunkin jump up on the bed. He sniffed curiously at Draco, who was already snoring quietly, then curled up against Hermione's stomach with a contented sigh. She drowsily patted his tiny head, and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/19/15 to fix some grammar problems and take out a bizarre reference to Draco's shoulder hurting when he's not supposed to feel pain. I don't even know why it was there, it made it seem like he was getting better, when he wasn't...


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things...so, there's a bit of a jump between the last chapter and this one. Once the whole sex thing was out of the way, there was no point in covering every little thing that happened between that and when things start to get interesting again. Anything really important that happened in the few months in between this chapter and the last one, I've had them mention, or at least had Hermione think about. (There wasn't much that was really important, though).
> 
> Yeah, you can probably guess where this is going, but I'm afraid it's not really going to *fix* anything. Not permanently, anyway. My muse can be a real b***! ;-)
> 
> And, I just want to say that I really appreciate all the comments I've received on this story. It's kind of mind-blowing, and exciting, even though I have terrible social anxiety, and always have to give myself a pep talk to force myself to read them! lol

_October 9, 1998_

"Thank Merlin _that's_ over with," Hermione moaned tiredly, plopping down in the nearest armchair the second she passed through the floo into the front sitting room one afternoon in early November.

"Can't argue with you there." Draco chuckled as he sat in the matching chair on the other side of the fireplace. "I've never met a more unpleasant couple in my life...and that's saying something."

"The way they spoke to their elves..." Hermione shuddered. They had just returned from 'handing over the keys,' so to speak, of Malfoy Manor to its new owners, the Nussbaums, a fairly wealthy and outrageously snobby couple from Germany. In order for the ancient wards to remain as stable as possible, it was necessary for Draco to personally re-calibrate them to recognize the middle-aged Johannes Nussbaum as the mansion's new owner. Of course, it had to be done on location, in the pompous git's presence.

Hermione had gone along to act as a buffer between Gretchen, Johannes' much younger trophy wife, and Draco. The vapid blonde witch, only a few years older than Hermione, had obviously smelled fresh meat (and a larger bank account) when they were introduced. She'd gravitated to Draco shamelessly upon their first meeting a few weeks earlier, when the Nussbaums had traveled from Germany to tour the Manor in person before making their final offer. Draco had been forced to meet with the couple several times since then, and Johannes had consistently turned a blind eye to his wife's persistent attempts to flirt with and manhandle the younger wizard.

Hermione wasn't so forgiving. Not only could she see the pain flicker in Draco's eyes every time the little trollop would not-so-subtly caress his hand or touch his cheek, but Draco was _hers_ , dammit. She'd been trying for weeks to ignore the strong affection she was developing for her husband, but it was undeniably there. Even if it hadn't been, she didn't appreciate the other witch disrespecting their marriage, Ministry ordered formality or not.

"They still weren't as bad as my Father," Draco pointed out a bit sheepishly. "And Tibby is happy to have the Malfoy elves here."

They had both agreed not to include the Malfoy family elves in the sale after watching Johannes scolding one of his own elves, which he'd brought along for the tour. The wizard had spilled a single drop of tea on his own tie, and then screamed at the poor elf for not somehow preventing it. Hermione wasn't totally comfortable with selling the Manor to such a horrible person, but Draco, understandably, wanted to be rid of the Manor, and there had been no other offers.

"What are we going to do to keep six elves busy?" Hermione asked, rubbing her temples wearily.

"Well...Nugget and Bob can take over caring for the horses," Draco suggested.

"Nugget?" Hermione snickered. "That's the worst name I've ever heard!"

"I was five!" Draco shrugged sheepishly. "Never let a five year old name the help."

"Duly noted," Hermione replied sarcastically.

"Anyway, you wanted to expand the vegetable garden, so the elves can help with that. Plus, you know Melaina and Tibby have had trouble keeping up with cleaning this whole place by themselves. Some of the spare bedrooms have dust an inch thick under the beds."

"Why in the world were you looking under the spare beds?" Hermione giggled.

"Have you met Dunkin? Short, fuzzy, far too curious for his own good?" Draco asked, smirking slightly. "I couldn't find him for an hour while you were at the Weasleys' the other day. I finally found him sleeping under Melaina's dresser."

Hermione laughed. "Crooks didn't help you find him?"

"He did..." Draco rolled his eyes. "Eventually. I think he likes watching me suffer sometimes."

"You brought another kneazle into the house, Dray," Hermione pointed out. "A younger, prettier, purebred kneazle at that."

"You're the one who suggested I apprentice under Marcos." Draco shrugged dismissively. "And it's not my fault no one claimed her."

After researching healers for magical creatures, Hermione had found out that there was a small clinic off Diagon Alley. She'd never noticed it in the past, since she'd always taken Crookshanks to a muggle veterinarian near her parents' home in Essex for his annual check ups. Being only half-kneazle, she'd successfully passed him off as a Persian mix. The magical animal healer, Marcos Agostino, had agreed to take Draco on as an apprentice, since none of the European wizarding universities offered programs in animal healing. Marcos himself had attended a muggle university in the States, but with Draco's condition, and the restrictions imposed by their marriage bond, that wasn't really an option.

Hermione had been tentatively accepted into the law program at the most prestigious wizarding university in England, pending her successfully passing her NEWTS in December. Draco adamantly refused to let her pass up the opportunity by accompanying him to the States; therefore he couldn't go.

Within days of beginning his work with Marcos, a young kneazle had been brought in that had wandered into muggle London. She had been hit by a car right in front of the Leaky Cauldron. When no one claimed her after a week, Draco had brought her home, sheepishly presenting Hermione with the fluffy, pure white fur-ball as an 'apology' for stealing Crookshanks' affections. Crookshanks had all but ignored him ever since.

They'd named her Annabelle, and she followed the grumpy older kneazle around like a shadow, but he refused to acknowledge her existence. Hermione was actually worried that the younger feline was becoming depressed by his rejection.

"What time are Harry and Luna coming over?" Draco's question interrupted her reverie.

"Six," Hermione mumbled, tiredly rubbing her eyes. They'd been working rigorously to finish cleaning the Manor over the last few weeks, and she felt ready to drop from exhaustion. She was looking forward to a reprieve now that the sale was finalized, but right now she wished they hadn't invited Harry and his girlfriend over for a celebratory dinner. At least Ron was busy at the Chudley Cannons' training camp, so he wouldn't be there with his new girlfriend Vanessa (a chillingly similar copy of Lavender Brown, who was somehow even more annoying). So far, none of the other Weasleys had accepted an invitation to Rosier Court, despite Narcissa's hopes for a reconciliation between the two families. Hermione had stopped trying, choosing to visit them at the Burrow when she wanted to see them. 

"I wish you would makinge an appointment with Healer Singh," Draco said, frowning. "This isn't normal. You've been feeling tired for weeks."

"We've been working on the Manor for weeks." Hermione reminded him dismissively. "I'm sure I'll start feeling better now that it's out of the way."

"I hope so." Draco frowned at her worriedly. "I just wish you'd take it easy. I don't like seeing you like this, 'Mi."

Hermione smiled reassuringly at him. "I'll be fine, Dray." Over the two months since they'd been married, they had fallen into calling each other by affectionate nicknames more often than not. Hermione never would have thought she could become that comfortable with the blond wizard sitting across from her. Of course, she'd never imagined she would find herself falling for him so easily, either. She quickly forced herself to push aside her current train of thought.

"Why don't you go take a nap before they arrive?" Draco suggested. He was looking at her far too intently, and she prayed he hadn't been scanning her thoughts just then.

"Okay," Hermione agreed, feeling too tired to argue. Pulling herself out of her chair, she sidestepped Draco's usual token attempt to kiss her on the cheek despite the pain it caused him, and headed upstairs to their suite. Annabelle and Crooks were curled up as far apart as possible on Hermione and Draco's bed. Crooks meowed at Hermione reproachfully when Annabelle sleepily moved to curl up against her stomach. "Sorry Crooks. Take it up with your dad," Hermione mumbled before giving in to her exhaustion.

***

"Excuse me, Ma'am, but Master Draco asked me to inform you that Mister Potter and Miss Lovegood have arrived."

Hermione blinked confusedly at the house elf in front of her, having become accustomed to Tibby's odd speech patterns. Evidently, house elf grammar followed no particular rules. This elf, whom she vaguely remembered was named Muffy or Muffin, blinked big blue eyes at her expectantly while she sat up and stretched. "Um, thank you, Muff...hmm," she trailed off, mumbling the last syllable to hide her uncertainty.

"My name is Mittens, Ma'am. Would you like me to lay out fresh robes for you, Ma'am?" the elf asked politely, glancing surreptitiously at Hermione's wrinkled blouse and skirt.

"Did Draco ask you to wait on me?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"No, Ma'am. Mistress Narcissa did. There were no other positions available, Ma'am," Mittens explained.

Having familiarized herself with house elf traditions in the two months she'd been at Rosier Court, Hermione knew better than to argue. "Alright. Yes, please. The sage green ones, if they're clean." Melaina's cooking had had an effect on both Hermione and Draco's waistlines. She'd needed to gain weight, but she'd already enlarged most of her clothing, and she was afraid she'd need to buy larger jeans soon. She only had three or four pairs that still fit comfortably, and had taken to wearing robes much more often than she used to. She accepted her current wardrobe problems without complaint, because Draco already looked much healthier than when they were married.

Hermione pushed thoughts of her husband's improved appearance out of her head as she quickly changed for dinner with their friends.

When she arrived downstairs, she found said husband in the front sitting room, arguing loudly with Harry about the merits of two different styles of racing broom. Luna practically jumped for joy when Hermione entered the room. "'Mione, you look wonderful!" the blonde exclaimed cheerfully.

"Since when do you notice things like that?" Hermione chuckled.

"Well, no offense, but you've been looking a little peaked lately," Luna explained calmly.

"You try dealing with obnoxious, racist, grabby Germans, and see how great you feel," Hermione blurted irritably.

Draco glanced over and caught her eye, winking briefly before returning to his heated debate with his cousin.

Luna looked back and forth between them thoughtfully. "You should tell him how you feel, 'Mione."

"What good would it do?" Hermione muttered. "Nothing can come from it." It had been a huge relief when Draco had finally broken down and explained his condition to a few of their closest friends; Harry, Luna and Blaise. Now, Luna kept offering ridiculous suggestions for a cure, and pushing Hermione to admit that she loved Draco. Hermione wasn't even one hundred percent sure how she felt about him, for Merlin's sake! "Just because I don't want some blonde tart feeling him up doesn't mean I want him myself," she argued quietly. "It's just disrespectful. And it hurts him!"

"What about last week when you fell off Honey, and he caught you?" Luna asked, ignoring her denial. "You said it didn't seem to hurt when he touched you then..."

"I think it was the adrenaline," Hermione shrugged uncertainly. Draco frequently tried to touch her, but she always eluded him. However, a week ago, she'd fallen from her mare, Honey (her wedding gift from Narcissa) when Dunkin had startled the skittish half-Arabian. Draco had appeared out of nowhere, catching her before she could hit the ground. It was only later that Hermione realized he'd never even flinched.

"Have you let him try again since then?" Luna asked.

Before Hermione could respond in the negative (it really wasn't worth torturing themselves with repeated failed attempts), yet another Malfoy house elf appeared in the doorway. "Dinner is served," the elf (Bootsy or maybe Bitsy), sniffed distastefully before disappearing as abruptly as she'd appeared.

Hermione shot Draco a slightly annoyed look, which turned into a full blown scowl when he and Harry both burst out laughing. "I'll talk to them, 'Mi, I promise." He chuckled heartily, detracting quite a bit from the sincerity of his words.

"And offer them decent clothes? Explain that it doesn't mean they have to leave, I just don't like seeing their bits hanging out all over the place..."

"Only two of them have dangly bits, and they both work outside," Draco pointed out. "Though, now that you mention it, trousers might help them avoid a very uncomfortable sunburn," he added thoughtfully, making Harry howl with laughter.

Hermione smiled despite herself. "You both suck," she muttered, her words lacking any real heat.

"You love me, and you know it," Draco said, grinning teasingly.

Hermione flinched slightly before she could cover it, but quickly rolled her eyes. "You wish, Malfoy," she snorted. Draco chuckled and began to lead the way to the small dining room they used only when they had guests. Hermione was finally getting used to the fact that even Narcissa ate nearly every meal in the kitchen.

Her mother-in-law was already seated to the left of the head of the table when they entered the dining room. Draco sat at the head, and Hermione sat on his right, while Harry sat opposite Draco at the foot of the antique table, which Hermione had charmed to adjust its length to suit the size of the party being served. Luna sat beside Hermione on Harry's left. "Hello, Harry," Narcissa greeted him warmly. "Luna, it's lovely to see you again."

"It's nice to see you, too, Missus Malfoy," Luna replied politely. "Thank you for having us."

"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Narcissa?" The older blonde frowned gently. "You're practically family," she added, winking at Harry, who promptly choked on a mouthful of water.

"Maybe someday," Luna murmured dreamily, vigorously patting Harry on the back.

Hermione covered her mouth with her napkin, smothering a laugh. Luna was the only one at the table who was unaware that Harry had recently retrieved his mother's engagement ring from his parents' Gringotts vault. Because the elder Weasleys were traveling in Rome, he'd hinted that he might propose to the witch that night. He didn’t want to wait for the Weasleys to return, and thought that he'd be less nervous if he had people around for moral support. He'd told Hermione that he didn't see the point in waiting any longer than necessary, since he was confident he'd found his soulmate. If the war had taught him anything, it was not to take those he loved for granted.

Sure enough, once his coughing fit passed, Harry cleared his throat, reaching for the pocket of his robes. Before he could say anything, Melaina and Tibby walked in carrying trays loaded with bowls of pumpkin soup. Harry sighed impatiently as they passed out the bowls, and poured them each a glass of red wine from Lucius' vast collection, which Draco had seen fit to move from the Manor in addition to his books.

"Do you need anything else before the main course?" Melaina asked before she left.

"Yeah, Potter needs you to hurry up and leave." Draco snickered, earning himself a dirty look from Harry, and a knowing smirk from Melaina, who was also aware of his proposal plans. Hermione kicked him lightly under the table. "Ow!" he protested, leaning down to rub his ankle, even though she could tell by the hint of amusement in his eyes that it hadn't hurt at all.

Fortunately, Luna seemed oblivious as she sampled her soup with a contented sigh.

"L-lu," Harry stammered after the housekeeper left the room. Still focused on her soup, Luna appeared not to hear him. Clearing his throat, and shooting Hermione a brief look of sheer panic, he practically shouted, "Luna!"

The blonde jumped, sloshing some soup on the table cloth. "Oh, goodness, I'm sorry! Harry, why are you yelling? Indoor voices..." she scolded quietly as she pulled out her wand to clean up the mess.

"I've got it!" Hermione waved her hand, and the small puddle disappeared. If nothing else, her magic had grown much stronger since her marriage to Draco, as had his. When they were together, neither required a wand to perform most commonly used spells.

"Show off," Harry muttered teasingly before turning back to Luna. Taking her left hand in his, he dropped down on one knee beside her chair, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small purple velvet box. "Lu...I'm not very good at this kind of thing. Hell, I've never done this before, obviously, so I'm just assuming I'm no good, but...I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Yes," Draco agreed cheerfully. Both Hermione and Narcissa kicked him this time. "Bloody hell! He asked..." he protested indignantly.

"Rhetorical question...look it up!" Hermione hissed quietly.

Harry rolled his eyes, then swallowed hard. "Fuck it. Luna, will you marr-" he began hurriedly.

Luna was in his lap, kissing him fiercely before he could finish his question. "Yes! Yes! Of course, yes!" She murmured between increasingly heated kisses.

"Ahem!" Narcissa cleared her throat loudly several seconds later, when Luna seemed about to unbutton Harry's outer robes. "Congratulations!"

The couple continued kissing passionately for a few seconds. Hermione and Narcissa exchanged embarrassed looks.

"For Merlin's sake! Please stop before I have to gouge out my own eyes and obliviate myself!" Draco shouted finally, throwing a dinner roll at Harry's head.

Normally, Narcissa would have hexed him for such behavior, but she merely cast him a grateful smile when their guests finally separated, a bit breathless. "As I said...congratulations. Now, please get off the floor." The older witch smiled amusedly. Harry scrambled to his feet, pulling Luna after him.

"S-sorry, Narcissa," he mumbled. Then, smiling brightly, he somewhat dazedly exclaimed, "She said yes!"

"We noticed," Draco drawled teasingly. "You forgot to put the ring on her, mate."

Harry smacked himself on the forehead and pulled the ring from its box, carefully sliding it on Luna's finger. "Sorry, luv," he murmured sheepishly.

"No worries," Luna murmured, smiling serenely as she admired the delicate gold band. Instead of a diamond, it held a flawless heart shaped ruby.

Hermione glanced at the plain platinum band on her own finger and felt a slight twinge of jealousy that she would never get to experience a proposal; romantic, awkward, or otherwise. Shaking herself from her gloomy thoughts, she forced a smile on her face and said, "Congratulations, you two. I'm sure you're going to be very happy."

"Here, here!" Draco chimed in, raising his wine glass in an impromptu toast.

Hermione raised her own glass and took a sip, grimacing at the wine's unusually sour taste.

"What's wrong, dear?" Narcissa asked worriedly. "Has it gone bad?" Taking a sip from her own glass, she shrugged slightly.

"I don't know. My taste seems to be off lately. I think I'm coming down with a cold," Hermione explained, pushing the glass away.

"It's been over a week," Draco said, frowning. "Remember the chicken last Thursday? And the scrambled eggs yesterday..."

"Don't remind me," Hermione groaned, her stomach lurching just thinking about the rancid smell of the previous day's breakfast. "I still say Tibby accidentally left an egg in the coop for a week or so before gathering it."

"The eggs were fine, 'Mi," Draco argued.

"Drop it," Hermione muttered, noticing both Harry and Narcissa giving her curious looks. "I'm fine. I've just been worn out from clearing out the Manor and studying for my NEWTS, and now I've caught a bug or something. I'll be fine. Things will be much easier now that the Manor is out of our hair."

"Mmmm," Draco nodded dubiously. Just then, Melaina walked in with a large platter bearing a perfectly cooked pot roast surrounded by broiled potatoes, carrots, onions and celery. Draco shot Hermione a challenging look, watching her face closely as the housekeeper placed a large serving in front of her.

Hermione's stomach growled loudly, and she smirked triumphantly at him as she took her first bite. "Delicious!" She exclaimed after swallowing.

Draco rolled his eyes and dug into his own meal.

Not surprisingly, Harry and Luna left soon after dessert. Narcissa also excused herself not long after, and Hermione retreated to the Master suite with her battered copy of 'Sense and Sensibility.' She reread it frequently when she needed to unwind.

Draco wandered in after his usual nightly walk around the grounds with Dunkin, who had gained a kilogram or so in the last two months, but had yet to calm down even a little bit. He smiled at Hermione on his way to the bathroom, but said nothing. Apparently, he was finally learning that she didn't like to be interrupted while reading, something Harry and Ron hadn't learned in seven years.

Unfortunately, Dunkin had also missed the memo on this. The crup barreled into the room shortly after his master, chasing Annabelle, who was rather comically terrified of the puppy, who was barely half her size. Both animals ran around, over and under the bed several times before Bella took refuge on Hermione's lap. "Dunkin! Stop picking on your sister!" Hermione scolded exasperatedly. The crup wagged his tails sadly, and guiltily hung his head before curling up at the foot of the bed.

"He wouldn't keep chasing her if she'd stop running away," Draco said, walking back into the room in a pair of black silk pajama pants. Hermione quickly looked away. Since he had put on weight and built up some muscle from working at the clinic, the sight of him shirtless did things to Hermione's hormones that she'd rather not deal with.

"You try explaining that to her," Hermione snapped, closing her book abruptly and rolling onto her side, facing away from temptation as he crawled into bed beside her.

"Are you mad at me?" Draco sounded anxious, and she scolded herself mentally for being unnecessarily harsh with him. Healer Singh had explained after several intense therapy sessions with Draco that she now thought he might be suffering from a combination of problems, rather than having Falstad's as she'd originally thought. According to the healer, almost all of his emotional issues were likely a defense mechanism triggered by a lifetime of severe verbal and physical abuse at the hands of his deceased father. At the healer's urging, Draco had reluctantly revealed to Hermione about a month after the wedding that not all of his physical scars had come from his time in Azkaban. It was still unclear whether Narcissa had known about her husband's abusive behavior, but she had begun seeing Healer Singh herself soon after Draco's admission. The healer still wasn't sure why light physical contact caused him such severe pain, while sensations that  _should_ be painful very frequently were not.

Rolling back over and noticing the worried expression on Draco's face, Hermione thought that if Lucius wasn't already dead, she would happily kill the bastard herself.

"I'm not mad at you, Dray," Hermione whispered, smiling at him affectionately. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just tired. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

He smiled back, looking relieved for a moment before frowning worriedly. "Are you sure you're just tired? I'm starting to worry about you. You've seemed off for a week or two..."

"Will you stop worrying about me? I've been watching a beautiful blonde slag try to steal my husband right in front of me for two weeks now. That'd make anyone sick to their stomach," Hermione blurted without thinking.

Draco blinked, then smiled bemusedly. "Are you...jealous?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione snorted scornfully, hoping her panic over her slip wasn't written all over her face. "It's just rude to flirt with someone in their spouse's presence. I mean, she doesn't know we're just friends. It's only been two months, but even Kingsley believes we're really a couple now. How gullible can you get?" She snorted, hoping she sounded amused, and that he wasn't reading her mind.

"Right," Draco mumbled, his smile faltering slightly. "As long as you're not mad, or dying on me."

"I'm not." Hermione shook her head. "I'm just really tired," she added, letting out a perfectly timed yawn.

"Go to sleep then, woman," Draco ordered jokingly. "Good night, 'Mi." He smiled warmly at her, then rolled onto his stomach.

"Good night, Dray," Hermione let herself take a good long look at his exposed back and shoulders before blowing out her bedside lamp, and magically extinguishing the candles in the overhead fixtures. Despite her exhaustion, sleep was a long time coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/20/15 to correct some grammar issues and typos. No major changes.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut! Actual smut, without any of the agony usually associated with it in this story. Yay! I have to warn you, my muse is really mean, so this probably ISN'T permanent. However, in more optimistic news, I'm well into writing another chapter for this story for the first time in MONTHS, so maybe, hopefully, I'm not blocked on it anymore? Cross your fingers...

_October 12, 1998_

Hermione woke up a few mornings later to a warm, heavy weight across her abdomen. When she tried to roll over, she found herself unable to move. "Ugh, get off me, Crookshanks! I have to pee!" She shoved at the mass holding her down and froze. Instead of the coarse fur she'd expected, her fingers had come into contact with smooth, hairless skin. Jerking her head up to look, she found Draco asleep on his stomach with his left arm splayed across her. "Oh my god!" Panicking, she moved to shake him awake...until she realized that he wouldn't be sleeping so peacefully if he was in pain.

She began to cautiously stroke his arm with one finger, then her whole hand. He didn't react at all, so she moved her hand up his arm and across his bare shoulder, resting it lightly on the middle of his upper back. Still no reaction.

Heart pounding wildly, she whispered, "Dray? Dray?!"

He snored softly and moved a bit closer, snuggling up against her and smiling in his sleep. "Mine," he mumbled quietly.

"Draco? I really have to pee..." Hermione squirmed in a futile attempt to worm her way free of his grip without waking him. "Draco!" She finally shouted when her bladder seemed about to burst.

"Huh? What? What's wrong?" Draco mumbled groggily, not opening his eyes.

"I need to pee, and you're...you're holding me down," Hermione murmured, gently pushing on his arm.

His eyes shot open, and he stared at his arm, then at her face, then back at his arm in obvious shock. "How is this happening?"

"I don't know, but I really need to use the loo!" Hermione whimpered, giving him a less than gentle shove.

He looked reluctant to break contact with her, but moved his arm, and she bolted for the bathroom. When she had finished, she washed her hands and nervously walked back into the bedroom.

Draco was now sitting propped against the headboard, staring down at his arm as if it could explain what was happening. When she walked in, he whipped his head around to look at her. "Did that really just happen?"

"Yes." Hermione smiled sympathetically at his obvious confusion. "I woke up, and you were..."

"Come here." He gestured for her to come closer.

After hesitating for a split second, Hermione obeyed, slipping back under the covers and moving to within a few inches of him. Looking into his eyes, she reached out and place the palm of her right hand flat against the middle of his chest.

Draco blinked, then smiled happily. "It doesn't hurt."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Really?" She asked hopefully.

"It feels good." Draco grinned, placing his right hand over hers and pressing it more tightly against his bare skin.

Hermione barked out a laugh and reached up to cup his cheek in her left hand. "Am I dreaming?"

"Only if I'm having the same dream." He chuckled, lightly nuzzling her hand.

"Wouldn't you say that even if I _was_ dreaming?" Hermione frowned thoughtfully.

"Shut up," Draco murmured, then leaned in and kissed her, barely pressing his lips to hers.

Hermione froze. "What are you doing?" She asked breathlessly, her lips still brushing against his.

"I'm kissing my wife, silly." He chuckled, and did it again.

Hermione was too stunned to respond at first, but when he cupped her face between his hands and tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, she let out an involuntary whimper and kissed him back. Her thoughts were whirling like mad, but she concentrated mostly on the facts that his lips were almost ridiculously soft, and he was an amazingly good kisser for someone who'd never really had much practice at it. He kept nibbling gently on her lower lip, then licking it to take the sting away. When he finally pressed his tongue firmly against the seam of her lips she parted them eagerly, allowing him to explore her mouth before returning the favor. He tasted like mint, and she wondered briefly if he'd performed a freshening charm on his mouth while she was in the bathroom. She wished she'd thought of that.

After several minutes, they pulled apart, gasping for air. Hermione rested her head against his shoulder, lightly kissing his neck. Draco shivered and ducked his head to place an open-mouthed kiss on her shoulder. "You taste so good. I can't believe this is finally happening. I want you so bad, 'Mi..." he murmured against her skin.

"What?" Hermione asked, smiling dazedly as she pulled back to look at him.

His pupils were so fully dilated, his eyes almost completely black, and Hermione's stomach fluttered. "I know you think I can't really love you, but I can, 'Mi. I've talked to Healer Singh about you a lot, and she helped me realize that it's okay for me to let myself feel something other than anger and fear. I've been holding back because I couldn't stand to let myself fall for you, knowing I couldn't touch you, but, gods, 'Mi...whatever's going on here, I don't want to waste it. Please, luv..." He sat up straighter and gently grasped her shoulders. "Make love to me. I promise- no screaming this time, unless it's in a good way." He winked mischievously, and Hermione chuckled softly.

"I...I don't know," she murmured, biting her lip. "I want you too, but what if this is only temporary? I think it'd be really hard to go back..." It would probably kill her, she realized, but could she really pass up what might be her only chance to be with him like a normal couple?

"We won't go back. If this...whatever it is...wears off, we'll just have to figure out how to make it happen again," Draco said fiercely. "Come on, you're supposed to be the brave one, Miss Gryffindor."

Hermione bit her lip again, then smiled tentatively. "Okay." She nodded shyly.

"Okay?" Draco smiled excitedly. She nodded, and he gently pushed her back against the pillows.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her, straining upward to meet his lips halfway. As they kissed, she let her hands roam over his chest and shoulders, reveling in finally being able to touch his almost luminescent skin. When her hand accidentally brushed against his nipple, he practically purred, letting out a low rumbling sound deep in his chest that made her lower abdomen tighten reflexively. Feeling bold, she pushed hard on his shoulders, flipping him off of her and onto his back beside her.

"What are you-" he began confusedly.

She answered by leaning over him and kissing his neck, slowly working her way down to his collarbone. She paused to lick and suck on his left nipple for a moment before kissing her way to his belly button.

He was now making the sexiest noises she'd ever heard, gasping and whimpering with every touch of her lips and tongue. When she grasped the sides of his pajama bottoms and began licking her way down from his navel, he squeaked in a very unmanly fashion and grabbed her shoulders. "No..."

"No?" Hermione stared at him incredulously. "What do you mean, 'No?!'"

"I mean...maybe later?" He grinned sheepishly. "I'm never going to last if you do that."

Hermione thought for a moment, then grinned wickedly. Yanking his pajamas down over his hips, she looked him in the eye and licked her lips. "Draco, you're eighteen years old. I'll take my chances..." Ignoring his continued protests, she took him in her hand, stroking him lightly as she kissed the head of his cock. His hips bucked against her uncontrollably, but she used her free hand to hold him down as she sucked him partially into her mouth, and flicked her tongue against the thick vein on the underside of his shaft.

"Oh Gods, 'Mi!" He moaned loudly, throwing his head back and rolling his hips as much as her hand on his hip would allow. "Please!"

Hermione smiled around him, then pushed downward, breathing through her nose as she took him in as far as she could. There were still a few centimeters left over, so she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, and then released his hip to allow him to move more freely. He slid his hands into her hair, gently holding her head, but not directing her movements as she began moving up and down, sucking firmly and trailing her tongue under the edge of the thick ridge around his tip on every upstroke. The sensation of him in her mouth reminded her of how he'd felt inside her two months earlier, and she moaned loudly.

"Oh god, I'm gonna come," he whimpered, jerking his hips involuntarily. "Sorry!" He gasped.

Hermione could tell he was holding back, trying not to move, so she pulled away just long enough to murmur, "Let go, Draco," before swallowing him back down.

The tip of his cock bumped the back of her throat, and her eyes began to water as his hips started pumping erratically. She pulled back a bit, sucking hard, and salty fluid flooded her mouth as he arched his back and screamed, "Oh god, 'Mione!"

Hermione smiled proudly as she lapped up a few drops of his release that had escaped her mouth, then licked her fingers. He had collapsed into the pillows, gasping breathlessly, and she crawled back up beside him, gently stroking his hair as he recovered. "I told you not to do that..." he scolded softly after a few minutes.

"Yes, you did." She giggled. "But I wanted to make up for the last time."

"Mission fucking accomplished." He chuckled weakly, holding his right arm over his eyes. "I don't wanna know how you learned to do that so well."

"Actually, I roomed with Lavender Brown for six years. I learned a lot more than I ever wanted to know about boys and sex just from listening to her brag...until I finally learned to cast a silencing spell," Hermione explained softly.

"Oh hell...I don't suppose you thought to cast one just now did you?" Draco lowered his arm and shot her a hopeful look.

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. "Um, no."

Draco laughed. "Oh well. Better late than never..." He waved his hand, and Hermione felt his magic ripple across her skin as the walls shimmered briefly. "We're not finished, luv," he whispered, kissing her tenderly as he slowly rolled her onto her back and crawled on top of her.

Hermione reached down and squeezed his already half-hardened erection. "Hmmm...I know I told you it wouldn't be a problem, but you're not quite there yet."

"I know." He grinned mischievously. "It's your turn..." He waved his hand again, and her pink penguin pajamas disappeared, along with his sleep pants, which had been bunched around his knees. "Much better," he sighed happily, ducking his head to kiss between her collarbones.

"Where did they go?" Hermione asked breathlessly as he trailed his tongue across her chest to her right breast. "Those were my favorite pajamas..."

"I'm sure we can find you more penguin pants." Draco snickered, then sucked her nipple into his mouth.

"I meant yours," Hermione managed to gasp as he flicked his tongue over her flesh.

Draco released her with a soft 'pop' and smirked sexily at her. "I have four more pairs just like them." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully before kissing his way down across her stomach. "You'll have to forgive me, luv. Slytherins aren't so loose-lipped about their sexual exploits, so I'll have to figure this out as I go."

Hermione squirmed as he tentatively ran his finger over her folds, parting them gently before probing around in an exploratory way. "Here," she murmured, placing her hand over his and guiding his finger to her clit before releasing his hand.

He looked up at her questioningly, then rubbed gently, sending a faint shiver of pleasure up her spine. "Like that?"

"Harder. In circles," Hermione mumbled. He obeyed, and her hips bucked involuntarily against his hand as he brushed just right against the tiny bundle of nerves. "Oh, god, just like that!" Hermione flopped back against the pillows, writhing against his fingers as he quickly brought her pleasure almost to the boiling point. Just as she was about to go over the edge, he stopped. "No, don't stop! Please!" She complained, not caring at all that she was begging shamelessly. "I was almost there..." she pouted irritably.

"Sorry, I need to be inside you..." he panted, quickly crawling up the bed and settling between her legs. Taking his fully renewed erection in his hand, he rubbed the tip up and down over her wet folds a few times before finding her opening and slowly pushing inside.

"Oh god, yes..." Hermione moaned, as her inner muscles slowly loosened to accommodate him. He seemed a bit thicker now than he had the first time, but she figured that even with the potion, his erection that time was probably less than optimal, what with all the pain he'd been in. This time, he felt perfect, stretching her just right, and hitting all kinds of wonderful spots she hadn't known existed.

"God damn you're so tight..." he grunted, his eyes screwed tightly shut as he held perfectly still. "I need a minute..."

Hermione tried her hardest not to move, but he felt too good, and she soon found herself rocking against him. Draco groaned and pulled halfway out, then thrust back in. "You feel so good," Hermione whispered encouragingly, running her fingers affectionately through his soft, silky hair.

Draco smiled, and kissed her sweetly. He somehow kept his kisses soft and almost reverent, even as his hips moved harder and faster until his upper thighs were slapping against her bottom with every thrust. The contrast was driving Hermione crazy, as ripples of pleasure kept shooting up her spine.

"Please. Please. Please..." She mumbled against his lips as the building pressure of her impending release became almost unbearable.

His brow furrowing uncertainly, he reached a hand between them, fumbling slightly before he found her clit and began stroking it lightly. "Come for me, 'Mi," he whispered before kissing her deeply.

Hermione frantically rubbed herself against his fingers, squeezing her inner muscles around him as he thrust one more time. He brushed against an especially sensitive spot inside her, and she came with a shriek, writhing against him. He thrust a few more times before joining her.

It took several minutes for her to catch her breath. When she did, she found Draco lying on his side, pressed against her and smiling fondly at her as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Hi," she whispered, feeling rather nervous now that the heat of the moment had passed. What if he had second thoughts?

"Don't over think it," he laughed quietly, kissing her forehead. "I swear, I have no regrets."

"How do you know what I'm thinking? Are you using legilimency again?" Hermione demanded, not bothering to deny what she'd been thinking.

"I don't need to, silly," he chuckled, giving her a strange look. She stared at him blankly. "It's written all over your face."

Hermione huffed irritably, but said nothing.

"I wonder why this is happening?" Draco whispered a few minutes later.

"You might want to ask your healer," Hermione suggested hesitantly.

He winced slightly, but nodded reluctantly.

Hermione eased back down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Does it still feel good?" she asked, kissing his neck, just because she could.

"Mmmhmm." He chuckled sleepily, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "Could use a few more hours of sleep though. Sun's not even up." It was true...Hermione noticed for the first time that no light was coming from behind the thick draperies over their bedroom windows.

"Me too." Hermione yawned, slipping her right leg between his and wiggling closer to him. "Cold," she muttered, shivering.

He reached out his hand and the blankets, which had been pushed to the foot of the bed, slid up to cover them. "I l-" he began but shut his mouth abruptly. "Sweet dreams," he mumbled a few seconds later.

Hermione smiled drowsily and let the sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know you probably know what's going on. But they don't. And like I said...my muse is evil, so don't get too excited yet
> 
> Edited 7/20/15 for a few grammar mistakes. No major changes.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of short because it was written back when my writer's block for this story first started to rear its ugly head. I've known where I was going with it all along, I just couldn't seem to get it written for a long time. And, yes, I know some of you probably saw this coming a mile away, but it wasn't really meant to be a huge surprise or I wouldn't have hinted so strongly at it. lol

"Do stop pacing, Draco, dear. You're making me dizzy," Narcissa scolded gently. She was seated next to Hermione in the waiting area of Healer Singh's office in the outpatient wing of St Mungo's. They'd arrived early for an 'emergency' appointment which Narcissa had scheduled as soon as Draco and Hermione had finally emerged from their suite late that morning and given her a slightly edited version of their good news. Narcissa and Hermione had been watching Draco wear a path in the tiled floor for the last ten minutes.

Draco sighed and dropped down into the empty chair beside Hermione, reaching over and clutching her hand after a moment's hesitation. "Sorry, I'm just nervous."

"Whatever she says, it isn't going to make this go away." Hermione smiled sympathetically at him, wrapping both of her hands around his, which was shaking. Part of her was still reveling in being able to touch him, and she leaned toward him almost instinctively.

"Draco?" Healer Singh's assistant poked her head into the waiting room, and he jumped to his feet.

"Come with me?" He asked Hermione anxiously, tugging on their joined hands.

She smiled, understanding that he didn't dare to leave her side for more than a few minutes for fear that whatever was happening would end. It might be silly, but she felt the same way. "Of course."

They followed Healer Singh's assistant down a short hallway and into a large, well-lit room with large cushions scattered on the floor. There were also two large, puffy armchairs, in addition to a soft, velvety purple loveseat. The Indian witch was seated in one of the armchairs, and appeared to be meditating. Her hands were resting palms-upward on her lap, and her eyes were closed.

Apparently used to this behavior, Draco said nothing, simply leading Hermione to the loveseat, pulling her down beside him, and waiting quietly.

After a few moments, Healer Singh opened her eyes, blinking when she saw their joined hands. "Well, I think I can guess what's brought you here today. When did this happen?" She asked, smiling cheerfully.

"This morning," Draco answered, squeezing Hermione's hand.

"Well, we noticed it this morning. It might have started last week," Hermione spoke up hesitantly. "I fell off my horse, and he caught me. In retrospect, it doesn't seem like that hurt him as much as it should have."

"Gee, thanks," Draco muttered sarcastically, but nodded agreeably. "It really didn't. I thought it was adrenaline or something at the time."

"I see. But there was no adrenaline rush this morning?" Healer Singh held out her wand and tilted her head questioningly at Draco, waiting for him to nod his consent before casting a few diagnostic spells on him.

"Not until _after_ we realized we could touch," Draco mumbled, winking at Hermione.

Healer Singh grinned knowingly, and Hermione blushed. "I'm not finding any changes in your physiology or your magic, Draco." She frowned thoughtfully. "Hermione, is it alright if I run some tests to see if anything has changed about _you_ that might explain this?"

"Of course." Hermione nodded, swallowing nervously as the healer waved her wand over her a few times.

"Oh!" Healer Singh exclaimed after one spell made a purple fog form around Hermione for a second. "I see...well, that could certainly do it..." she mumbled, writing something down in a folder on the table beside her.

"What is it?" Draco asked worriedly, looking back and forth between the two women.

Healer Singh smiled widely. "How do you two feel about having children?"

"I'd like to. Someday." Draco shrugged slightly. "Why?"

Hermione stared at the other witch, who was clearly struggling not to laugh. She couldn't mean what Hermione thought she meant. "But...it's too soon to tell. We just...you know...this morning."

"But you also had intercourse back in August..." Healer Singh reminded her cheerfully. "Have you had any symptoms since then? Tiredness, nausea?"

"A few foods have tasted weird lately, and I've been a little tired, but I haven't missed my period," Hermione blurted after thinking about it for a minute. The thought had actually crossed her mind briefly after she'd first begun having food issues, but her cycle had been completely regular, though perhaps a little lighter than usual, so she'd dismissed the idea. Her heart was racing; she just wasn't sure if it was from excitement, sheer terror, or a combination of the two.

Draco suddenly went completely still beside her. "Wait...what?" He looked back and forth between his healer and his wife like he was watching a tennis match at ten times the usual speed. "Do you mean..."

"Hermione is approximately eleven and a half weeks pregnant," Healer Singh announced cheerfully.

"But I haven't missed my period!" Hermione repeated, shaking her head vehemently.

Draco frowned thoughtfully, looking up as his lips moved silently. "We've only been married for ten weeks..." he said after a moment.

"Well, we actually count from the first day of the cycle in which conception occurs, which was probably roughly two weeks before the conception occurred. Was your period in July sometime around the 23rd or 24th?" She asked Hermione after checking a chart on her desk and then glancing at a calendar. Hermione, who always kept track of pretty much everything in her life, pulled her pocket calendar from her purse and checked, reluctantly nodding at the healer after finding the correct page. "I thought so. Obviously, the conception occurred on the sixth of August." Healer Singh grinned almost triumphantly. Strangely, Hermione found it only slightly embarrassing that the other woman knew exactly when they'd first had sex. "That would make you due around April 28th, give or take a week or so. Babies don't really tend to cooperate with due dates."

Hermione frowned confusedly. "But...my period?" She mumbled lamely.

"Some women continue to have a light period the first few months of their pregnancy. It's perfectly normal," Healer Singh explained. Waving her wand over Hermione's stomach a few more times, she announced, "Your baby seems to be fine."

Hermione pressed her free hand to her abdomen. "Baby?" She asked dazedly. "You're serious?"

Healer Singh chuckled. "Yes. You're going to have a baby. In approximately six months."

"We're having a baby?" Draco mumbled dazedly, sounding almost exactly like Hermione.

This time the healer laughed outright. "Yes. A baby. I suspect that is why you're able to touch now. Whatever causes your pain is no longer registering Hermione as a separate person; probably because she has your DNA inside her. It probably took a while for you to notice because the fetus wasn't quite big enough to have an effect at first."

At this, Hermione snapped out of her shock enough to ask, "But what will happen after...after the b-baby is born? Will we still be able to touch, or will this go away?" She couldn't stand the thought, and squeezed Draco's hand so hard he flinched. When she loosened her grip, he squeezed back almost as tightly.

Healer Singh frowned slightly. "We'll have to see when the time comes," she admitted reluctantly. "It could go either way. Or I might figure out what's causing the pain by then, and find a cure..." She shrugged uncertainly.

Hermione sat back in her chair and stared into space for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around the idea of becoming someone's mum at nineteen. Healer Singh just sat quietly, as if understanding their need to adjust to the news.

Draco shifted in his seat after being completely silent for a few minutes. "We're having a baby," he whispered, his voice cracking. He looked so completely shocked that Hermione burst out laughing, suddenly imaging how Narcissa was going to react. "What's so funny?"

"Your mum is going to flip!" Hermione giggled.

He blinked, then smirked wickedly. Turning to Healer Singh, he asked, "Do you happen to have a camera?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really excited right now, because this evening I finished not just the chapter I started writing the other day, but ANOTHER one on top of that. I'm now fairly confident that this story will be 24 chapters long, and I've already written 21 of them. The end is near! Yay! I started this story a year ago, so I'm really happy that I might actually finish it soon. Plus, the response to it has been way better than I ever imagined. I'm just hoping my muse doesn't stop cooperating for a month now that I've opened my big mouth...


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short chapter, also written during my blocked stage, but I figured it's a holiday (at least here in the states) and yesterday's chapter was also really short, so...here ya go. (There's no real point to this chapter whatesoever, but, like I said, I was blocked when I wrote it).

_October 13, 1998_

"So...he can just touch you all of the sudden? Out of nowhere?" Harry asked bemusedly as he and Hermione watched Draco ride Pepper, his charcoal gray half-Arabian stallion, around the jumping course they'd set up in the riding arena behind Rosier Court's stables. Hermione strongly suspected that the mansion's back yard contained wizard space, because it seemed to have no limits. The first time she'd walked out to the street, she'd been shocked by how small both the house and the yard appeared from the sidewalk. Equally shocking was the fact that they were in the middle of a muggle neighborhood. An extremely wealthy one, but still decidedly muggle. The discovery had reminded her all over again that she had truly misjudged Narcissa.

"Um, yeah," Hermione answered distractedly. Hermione herself was a fairly good rider, but Draco seemed truly at one with his elegant mount. Their movements together were almost flawless, and even Harry, who knew nothing about horses or riding, seemed somewhat captivated.

"Does he just levitate that thing, or what?" Harry asked, squinting as Draco coaxed the smallish horse over a particularly large jump with ease.

"No." Hermione chuckled. "I think Pepper can tell that Draco believes he can do it, so he just...does. I swear they read each others' minds..."

"Sometimes I can't believe that he's the same git that almost got Buckbeak killed," Harry muttered incredulously.

"Please don't bring that up," Hermione murmured quietly as Draco rode closer, smiling brightly. "He's really sorry about that."

"Do I look stupid to you?" Harry murmured out of the side of his mouth. "Of course I'm not going to say anything."

"Did you see how well he took that last jump?" Draco asked Hermione excitedly. "And you thought it was too high." He smirked teasingly.

"I stand corrected." Hermione leaned from the fence she and Harry were sitting on, and patted the stallion's neck, which was damp with sweat. Pepper immediately started nuzzling her shirt, looking for the sugar cubes she'd taken to carrying soon after Narcissa had presented them with the horses, the day after their trip to Diagon Alley (and, evidently, the conception of their child). "Not while you have the bit in your mouth, Piggy," she scolded gently.

"Meanie," Harry teased.

"It's bad for his teeth!" Hermione exclaimed defensively. "Besides, he really is a pig. He makes Ron look like the epitome of willpower when it comes to food."

"She's right. I don't think Nugget and Bob will ever forgive him for what he did to the vegetable garden the other day..." Draco chuckled ruefully. Pepper snorted impatiently. "Fine, let's get you to your hay," he murmured, and swung out of the saddle in a graceful movement that made Hermione's mouth go dry. The way his fitted riding trousers clung to his arse and thighs as he led Pepper to the stables really was sinful.

She didn't realize how intently she was staring at her husband's retreating form until Harry nudged her gently with his elbow. She jumped so badly she almost fell off the fence. "You really have it bad for him, don't you?" Harry laughed quietly.

"That obvious, huh?" Hermione didn't bother to deny it, but looked down at her hands to hide her flaming cheeks.

"It's only natural." Harry shrugged. "You're married, and now that you can..." Hermione shot him a warning glare, and he chuckled. "I was just going to say now that you can behave like married couples do..." He winked teasingly. "You might as well embrace the situation, so to speak."

"Oh, we're embracing it, believe me," Hermione admitted, feeling her face grow even warmer. After their appointment with Healer Singh the previous afternoon, they'd returned home and spent hours 'making up for lost time.' That morning, they'd woken up in each others' arms again, with similar results. Hermione honestly wasn’t sure how she could still walk properly at this point.

They'd told Harry that they could touch after he'd flooed over earlier in the afternoon and found them holding hands as they sat beside the pond. They'd decided not to tell anyone but Narcissa about the baby until she was further along, but it was proving more difficult than she'd expected to keep the news from Harry. It seemed wrong to keep anything from _him_ , even if they were just being cautious. She decided to speak to Draco about revising their decision as soon as possible.

Thinking about the baby automatically led to thoughts of what would happen after it was born...to wondering if things would go back to the way they were before. She didn't know if she could handle not being able to touch Draco again, and she didn't want to find out. Six months just wasn't enough time.

"Hey, don't look so sad," Harry murmured, patting her awkwardly on the back. "I was just teasing. Why are you crying? Did he...hurt you?"

Hermione touched her face, blinking confusedly when her fingertips came away wet with tears. "No, of course not. I'm just so scared all of this is going to fall apart," she whispered. "We don't know how long it'll last..."

"Oh, come on," Harry snorted softly. "You're Hermione Granger...when have you ever come across a problem you couldn't figure out?"

Before she could respond, Draco was back. He climbed up beside her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her chastely on the cheek in respect for Harry's presence. "Are you over thinking things again, 'Mi?"

"She is." Harry nodded at his cousin. "If you look close, you can almost see the smoke coming out her ears."

"Ha ha," Hermione muttered, sticking out her tongue even as she snuggled closer to Draco.

"There you are!" Narcissa's voice floated across the yard, and they turned to find her standing near the edge of the lawn. "Dinner will be ready shortly. Harry, you're more than welcome to stay. Andi is bringing Teddy over. They should be here in half an hour or so."

"Okay, thanks." Harry smiled warmly at the older witch, his eyes lighting up at the invitation.

Hermione smiled, touched by how happy Harry had become in the last few months. She was sure that it was partly due to the fact that he was no longer carrying around a piece of Voldemort's soul, or the burden of knowing he would have to kill him. But she was also convinced that finding out that he had a family, one that welcomed him as wholeheartedly as Narcissa, Andromeda and Draco did, had made a world of difference in his overall outlook on everything, as well. Whatever the cause, he was more outgoing, no longer prone to long broody spells, and his formerly explosive temper seemed to have all but disappeared. The removal of Voldemort's soul might have strongly influenced those aspects of his personality, but Hermione was sure he wouldn't have proposed to Luna so soon if his self esteem hadn't received a much-needed boost due to the acceptance of his father's side of his family. Of course, the younger blonde's total adoration for him didn't hurt either.

"Okay, while you're staring sappily at Harry...and don't think that doesn't bother me a little...I'm going to go take a shower," Draco whispered, kissing her on the cheek. "Unless you care to join me?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"We can't," Hermione whispered back, scandalized by his suggestion. "Everyone would know what we were doing..."

"If you guys don't mind, I'm going to pop home and change," Harry spoke suddenly. "I can't stand smelling like horses while I eat." Without another word, he climbed off the fence, turned on his heel and disappeared.

"See? Even Harry knows it's rude to dine while smelling like a barn," Draco said coaxingly. Taking her hand, he helped her down from the fence and immediately apparated them to their bathroom.

"Dray! Your mum..." Hermione protested weakly as he began to unbutton the front of her blouse.

"Mum expects us to wash up for dinner, or she wouldn't have warned us before Aunt Andi gets here," Draco mumbled, kissing her neck. "Unless you really don't want to?" He straightened up and looked her anxiously in the eye.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I'm just a little sore..." she admitted reluctantly.

Draco's face fell. "You should've told me sooner, 'Mi," he murmured reproachfully. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you..." he stepped back, his gaze dropping to the floor. He looked utterly miserable for a moment, and Hermione could have kicked herself.

"You didn't!" She reassured him quickly, cupping his face in her hands. "I'm just not used to using certain muscles. Especially not using them as much as I have been." She winked playfully when he peeked back at her face. "It's a very good sort of soreness, trust me."

"You're sure?" Draco asked suspiciously. "You're not just saying that?"

"Very sure." Hermione nodded firmly.

"Alright," Draco said dubiously. "Will you still join me? No funny business, I promise."

"I'd love to," Hermione murmured, kissing him warmly. "You know, we don't have to rule out _all_ funny business," she mused as she unbuttoned his shirt.

"Pray tell?" Draco asked with mock casualness while he unfastened her skirt and pulled it from her body.

"Well...my mouth isn't sore at all..." Hermione murmured, giving him a meaningful look and undoing his belt.

He stared at her for a second, then growled, "Bloody hell!" He waved his hand, and a second later their remaining clothing had disappeared. As he backed her toward the shower, he kissed her heatedly, mumbling, "You're going to be the death of me, witch!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/21/15 - I just wanted to elaborate on the fact that they are smack dab in the middle of a bunch of muggles...and the beautiful yard really is enchanted. And corrected Draco using his wand for something he wouldn't have needed it for at this point.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this, I hadn't actually decided yet if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl. And I'd gotten tired of the other Weasleys (besides Ron) sort of avoiding Hermione. This seemed like a good time for them all to make up.

_April 10, 1999_

“‘Mi, you have to come down eventually,” Draco’s voice called through their closed bedroom door. “At least let me in so I can change?”

“You’re a wizard. Just transfigure something!” Hermione called back stubbornly, knowing full well that it was just a ruse so he could get into the room. Draco had just changed his clothes an hour earlier. Hermione herself was sitting on the window seat, wearing a pair of very short denim maternity shorts, and a sleeveless blouse with the bottom four buttons undone, exposing her bulging stomach. With only three weeks remaining until her due date, she felt like she was being roasted alive, and she also couldn’t stand to have anything touching her belly button. “This was a bad idea. I’m just going to stay up here!” She yelled, rubbing her right side when the baby kicked her almost hard enough to bruise.

“I’m coming in...” Draco announced, sounding exasperated. Hermione raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. There was no way he was getting past her wards. Her magic was stronger lately due to the pregnancy. It turned out that she could tap into the baby's inherent magic, which was the only side effect she was going to miss.

A moment later, the door clicked open, and her husband walked in, looking very smug. “How did you do that?!” Hermione asked accusingly, looking back and forth between Draco and the door.

“I don’t think the baby wants you locking me out.” He shrugged innocently, then placed something on the end of the bed before dropping to his knees in front of her and kissing her stomach. “Did you, sweetie?” he murmured against her skin. The baby kicked again at the sound of its father’s voice. "Yeah, you didn't want to keep Daddy out."

Hermione smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately. “I didn’t either, really. But I really don’t want to go down there. They’re going to kill each other.” Narcissa had insisted on throwing her a huge baby shower, and this was the very first time Molly Weasley was going to be setting foot at Rosier Court, after she had refused every other invitation they had extended in the eight months they had been married. She always had a seemingly valid excuse for why she wasn’t available, but things had gradually become more and more awkward between her and Hermione since the latter had announced her pregnancy at the end of her first trimester, five months earlier. It was painfully obvious that while Molly had initially accepted Hermione and Draco’s marriage (probably because Hermione didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter), as soon as the older woman realized her unofficial second daughter had developed real feelings for the nephew of the woman who’d once tried to kill her only biological daughter, she had gone rather cold. It didn’t help matters that Draco had contributed to Bill’s extensive scarring and his current state of pseudo-lycanthropy.

It didn’t seem to matter to Molly that Bill himself seemed to have completely forgiven Draco. He hadn’t been available to help clear Malfoy Manor of all of its lingering dark magic, but when the wizard he’d recommended for the job was unable to remove one particularly nasty blood-letting curse, Bill had taken time off from his own current assignment for Gringotts to take care of it for them himself. Even Arthur had come to Rosier Court to help Harry install televisions in the smoking room and Hermione and Draco’s sitting room. Harry had somehow discovered that he had a rather surprising talent for charming muggle devices to work in magical homes. He was currently working on a way to get the internet to work at Grimmauld Place, with promises that the Burrow and Rosier Court were next if he was successful. Arthur had half-jokingly suggested that maybe he and Harry should start a business together, bringing muggle tech to the Wizarding world. Hermione knew that Harry was seriously considering it. He didn’t seem all that happy in his Auror training.

Ginny had spent a great deal of time helping Hermione and Narcissa prepare the nursery, and even George had come over with Ron a time or two to watch a football match or old reruns of Doctor Who (which both they and Draco were strangely obsessed with). The only Weasley not making an effort to clear the air with the Malfoys was Molly. Hermione had been shocked when the woman actually accepted her token invitation to the baby shower. As the date of the party approached, she had become more and more worried about the older witch’s motivation in doing so.

“Luv, they’re not going to kill each other.” Draco’s soothing voice drew her from her thoughts. “Come on. Even if she tries to start something, Mum’s not going to let herself be drawn into that sort of thing. Especially at her grandchild’s baby shower!”

“You’re right...” Hermione admitted a bit reluctantly. “But I really don’t want to dress up.” She groaned irritably just at the thought of it.

“That reminds me...” Draco snapped his fingers and stood up. Retrieving whatever he’d left on the bed, he returned to her, holding out a flat box wrapped in soft yellow wrapping paper. This is for you, from Mum and I.”

Eying him somewhat suspiciously, Hermione took the box and carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a pale lavender dress. The empire bodice was slightly ruched, with narrow straps and a thin band of matching fabric just below the bustline. The rest of the garment flowed loosely to her knees. The only odd bit was a large opening in the front, which would completely expose the wearer’s stomach. “I can’t wear this...” Hermione said, though it was actually rather tempting. “I don’t want people seeing my stomach! Especially right now. It’s hideous!” She poked at the thin line of dark skin extending down from her protruding bellybutton, caused by her wacky pregnancy hormones, and then at a couple of stretch marks exposed by her open blouse.

“Just...put it on. You’ll see...” Draco grinned mischievously. “Oh, and, by the way...your stomach is sexy as hell, so just shut up,” he added, going perfectly serious for a moment before his smile returned.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but obediently removed her blouse and pulled the dress over her head. The bodice had built in support, so she unhooked her bra and maneuvered it out from under the light-weight fabric, which seemed to have a mild cooling charm in place. It felt heavenly. “Well? What am I supposed to be seeing?” she asked impatiently, gesturing at her stomach, which was clearly visible, sticking through the hole in the front of the dress.

“ _Occulto_ ,” Draco murmured, gesturing at the gap.

The strange opening disappeared, but Hermione could still feel nothing but air against her skin. She cautiously touched her stomach, and could feel fabric under her fingertips. “What the...”

“It’s a very powerful glamour,” Draco explained unnecessarily. “It looks and feels...to the touch, like there is fabric there, even though there isn’t. The witch at the dress shop told Mum that a lot of women don’t like the feel of fabric on their stomach when they get further along. You might have noticed it has a cooling charm, too...”

“I love it!” Hermione gushed, hugging him tightly. “Thank you. It’s perfect.” She walked over to the mirror and did a little twirl.

“You might want to lose the shorts, luv,” Draco teased, come up behind her and wrapping his arms around her just above her stomach. Kissing her cheek, he added, “They're a bit bunchy. Other than that, you look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said again, turning her head so she could kiss him on the lips. He grasped her hips and turned her to face him completely, deepening the kiss. After a few minutes, Hermione reluctantly pulled away. “We need to get down there,” she reminded him.

“Says who?” he pouted, trying to kiss her again.

“Said _you_ , literally two minutes ago,” Hermione giggled, reaching under her dress and pulling off her shorts.

“Well, doing that isn’t helping your case at all,” Draco mumbled, tilting his head to the side so he could get a better view.

“Will you behave?” Hermione pleaded, swatting at his hand when he tried to grab her arse. “I didn’t want to go down there as it is!”

Draco sighed. “Ignore Molly. Everyone else down there is happy for you, and they can’t wait to meet this one...” he caressed her stomach affectionately. “And you never know...maybe she’s just decided it’s time to let bygones be bygones?”

“Maybe,” Hermione mumbled doubtfully. She forced herself to pull away from him so she could go in the bathroom and touch up her hair, which she had braided earlier. After a minute or so, she emerged. “Ready?” she asked, half hoping he’d say ‘No,’ and insist they stay in their room.

No such luck. “Ready.” He offered her his arm and an adoring smile. “You look wonderful, ‘Mi. Really.”

“For a beached whale...” she muttered as they started the long trek downstairs to the back yard, where the party guests were waiting.

“Stop saying things like that. You’re beautiful!” Draco protested, frowning.

“I’m bloody _huge_!” Hermione complained.

“You’re pregnant! You’re supposed to be huge!!!” Draco laughed, reaching over to rub her stomach again. “I honestly think you’ve never been sexier. You’re growing my child in there...it’s amazing. So stop worrying about what you look like, please? You’re beautiful, and I love you.”

Hermione stopped walking and hugged him, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I love you, too.”

He cupped her cheeks in both hands and wiped the tears away with his thumbs before kissing her forehead. “Shall we?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Ugh,” Hermione groaned. “Let’s just get it over with.” She sighed heavily and resumed walking.

Draco squeezed her hand reassuringly when they reached the outside doorway of the smoking room. Most of the guests were Hermione's friends and classmates from Hogwarts, but Narcissa had convinced Valerie Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and her mother to attend. The four Slytherin women were seated under the gazebo, while the rest of the guests sat in small groups around the yard. Hermione wasn’t quite sure if this was so much a sign of house-unity, or just a matter of who had been there first. She noticed a pair of redheads on the far side of the yard, and sucked in an anxious breath. “You’re going to be fine,” Draco whispered, kissing her hand before he released it and stepped back inside, where Harry, Ron, and the husbands of her married guests were planning to spend the afternoon watching a football match between England and Spain.

“Lucky bastard...” Hermione muttered before plastering a smile on her face as she spotted Ginny and Luna heading across the lawn in her direction.

“There you are!” Ginny crooned, holding out both hands to take Hermione’s and draw her completely outside. “You look great!” She added, making Hermione turn around so she could see the back of her dress.

“Is your mum here?” Hermione asked nervously.

“Yes, and she has promised to behave,” Ginny replied through clenched teeth, still smiling. It was the closest she had come to admitting that her mother had issues with Hermione’s new lifestyle. “Ron read her the riot act last night, and even Bill backed him up. She won’t say anything today, I promise.”

“They did?” Hermione gasped, staring at her in disbelief. Even if most of the family supported Hermione, she’d thought that if it came down to it, they’d side with their matriarch.

“They did. Harry, too. I think he sees you even more like the sister he never had, now that you’re having his cousin’s baby. He is definitely a Black.” Luna chuckled lightly. “Now, come on.” Ginny let go of one of Hermione’s hands, which Luna grabbed, and they proceeded to drag her across the lawn toward the gazebo.

The other women gradually noticed that the guest of honor had made her appearance, so by the time they reached the small structure, they were surrounded by a fairly impressive crowd of chattering females.

“Hermione, darling!” Narcissa rose smoothly to her feet and embraced her fondly before ushering her into a large, comfortably cushioned chair in the shade. “I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to make it.”

“Well, I had such a long trip,” Hermione joked weakly, acutely aware that Molly had moved closer and was listening to every word.

“My cousin Felicia didn't even want to get out of bed during her last month,” Fleur Weasley piped up sympathetically, deliberately avoiding her mother-in-law’s gaze. “You are due in three weeks, no?”

“The 28th.” Hermione nodded at the French witch. “So, probably not until May.” She grinned sheepishly.

“Or it could be any day now,” Hannah Abbott spoke up. “My sister had both of her children two weeks early.”

A few other women in the group made soft, encouraging noises at this. “Draco was a week early,” Narcissa chimed in. “So it could happen sooner than you think.”

Hermione nervously rubbed her belly, and the baby rolled over leisurely. “Oh Merlin...” As much as she wanted to meet her child, and have her body to herself again, she was really dreading the actual birth. Also, the question still lingered as to whether she and Draco would still be able to touch once she was no longer carrying his child, and she wasn’t ready to face the possibility that his sudden 'immunity' to her was only temporary. They’d tested it, and the phenomenon was definitely limited to only her. Harry and Luna still couldn’t touch him without causing him pain. Not even Andromeda or Teddy could do so; the only other exception was, as always, Narcissa.

“You’ll be fine,” Blaise’s mother murmured in a surprisingly gentle tone. From everything Hermione had heard about the woman, she’d almost expected a six foot tall praying mantis, or some sort of terrifying Amazon the first time they'd met, but the other witch was no taller than Hermione, with pale skin and shoulder length, strawberry blonde curls. Hermione thought she even spotted a few freckles on the other woman’s nose. “Just don’t hesitate to ask for the good potions,” she added with a wink.

A few other women tittered at this, but Hermione couldn’t help but hear the distinct sound of Molly Weasley’s disapproving tsk. Choosing to ignore it, she smiled weakly. “I’m going to wait until the time comes to decide if I need them,” she announced quietly. “I mean, I don’t know what it’s going to be like until it happens...”

“What...your books didn’t tell you?” Molly’s tone was teasing, but there was a slightly mean glint in her eye, and Hermione quickly looked away.

“Mum!” Ginny hissed angrily. “You promised.”

“I was just teasing,” Molly murmured, pursing her lips slightly. A long, awkward silence followed.

Narcissa cleared her throat just as it became unbearable. “Let’s have tea, shall we? Hermione, you must be hungry?”

She wasn't, but Hermione nodded politely anyway, and they all moved to a couple of long tables the house elves had set up that morning under a canopy closer to the house. Melaina had prepared dozens of tea sandwiches and several of Hermione’s favorite finger foods. There was even a large platter of the chocolate-filled croissants she’d become addicted to since moving into the mansion. To her surprise, Fleur sat across from Narcissa, in the chair to Hermione's left, after speaking quietly with Ginny, who had planned to sit there. Seeing Hermione’s confused expression, the blonde said, “Ginny thought it would be best if she sits with her mother. To, how did she say...nip the buds?”

“Oh,” Hermione grimaced slightly. “Is it that bad?”

“This is...difficult for Molly,” Fleur murmured regretfully.

“Why did she even come?” Hermione sighed frustratedly.

“The boys insisted. Even Georgie thinks she is carrying this grudge too far,” Fleur whispered, glancing down the table at her mother-in-law.

“I don’t understand why she’s acting this way,” Hermione mumbled. “She actually seemed fine about the whole thing when we got married.”

“I don’t think it is just your relationship with Draco that is bothering her. It has been eleven months now since she lost Fred, and she is not handling it well.” Fleur shrugged. “She lost part of her family...part of her heart...to You-Know-Who and his followers, and now she sees both you and Harry spending more time here with the Malfoys than at the Burrow...”

Hermione bit her lip and glanced surreptitiously at Molly, who was staring down at her plate, her expression blank. “Oh my god...she’s pulling a Ron,” she murmured, mentally kicking herself for not realizing it sooner.

“She...what?” Fleur blinked.

“She’s afraid of losing us, so she’s lashing out first,” Hermione explained.

“Ah...yes,” Fleur nodded understandingly, though she still looked a little confused. “And she does this by pulling on Ron?”

“No...it’s just a figure of speech. I meant he does it, too.” Hermione explained absently. She looked back at Molly just in time to catch the older woman glancing over at her with an unmistakably sad expression. She vowed right then and there to try to speak to her in private before she left. Feeling a bit better after speaking with Fleur, her appetite soon returned, and she indulged in a couple of chocolate croissants in addition to her more healthy chicken salad sandwich. She would have eaten more, but lately it felt like the baby had squeezed her stomach to half its normal size.

After everyone had finished, Narcissa stood up and tapped on her glass with a fork to get everyone’s attention. “If everyone is done eating, perhaps we should let Hermione open her presents, and give our stomachs time to settle before we bring out the cake?”

“Yes!” Hermione blurted excitedly, setting the others off in peals of laughter. Blushing, she said, “Sorry, I just love baby things. They’re so cute, and little, and...cute...”

“Prego brain is definitely affecting your vocabulary, ‘Mione,” Ginny teased, still chuckling.

“Oh shut up,” Hermione shot back, sticking out her tongue. “Wait until it’s you...”

Ginny snorted. “You need a man for that.” She glanced briefly at her mother, then winked at Hermione. “You know what they say about the Harpies...” Despite the fact that she wouldn't graduate for a few more months, the redhead had already accepted a professional Quidditch contract with the famous all-female team, about which rumors frequently circulated regarding the sexual preferences of a few of its players.

Hermione nearly bit her tongue off trying not to laugh when Molly’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Gin...what are you saying?”

Ginny managed to keep a straight face for about three seconds before she burst out laughing. “Nothing, but honestly, you should see your face, Mum.”

“Oh...you!” Molly swatted at her playfully. “You know I wouldn’t care either way...”

“I know, Mum.” Ginny hugged her affectionately.

Narcissa chuckled a bit awkwardly, then clapped her hands. “Tibby? Could you help us with the gifts, dear?”

Tibby appeared beside her, along with Mittens and Bitsy. All of the remaining food and dishes vanished, and the three elves immediately started moving a huge pile of presents from a table beside the back door, which Hermione hadn’t noticed, to the table in front of Hermione. Since she and Draco had decided not to find out the sex of the baby until it was born, most of the presents were wrapped in yellow, purple or pale green, though there were a few in Gryffindor red and gold, and one or two in Slytherin green and silver. “Wow! This is amazing,” Hermione said, shocked by the sheer volume of gifts. Getting choked up, she stammered, “You really shouldn’t have...this is too much...”

“Oh, just shut up and enjoy it!” Angelina Johnson half-shouted from near the back of the group. “Go on...open them!”

Hermione chuckled sheepishly and reached for the closest package. It was from the Patil twins, and contained a beautiful silk baby blanket with a sort of kaleidoscope-like pattern of diamonds in rich jewel tones, every color of the rainbow, and a delicate silver rattle shaped like an elephant. “Oh my goodness...they’re beautiful!” Hermione gasped, seeking out the twins and smiling gratefully at them. “I don’t know about the wisdom of combining babies and silk...”

“It’s charmed.” Padma smiled. “It’s completely un-stainable, and has heating and cooling charms to keep the baby at a constant temperature in any weather. I’ll show you how to adjust the temperature later.”

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured, tearing up again. “Ugh, my hormones...”

“Open the next one!” Ginny urged, shoving a large red and gold wrapped box into her hands. “This is from Charlie and I.”

Hermione ripped off the wrapping paper and pulled the cover from the box. Inside were several miniature dragons; one for every species. They were crawling all over the box and blowing tiny puffs of heatless flame at each other. “Oh my gods...they’re amazing! If the baby doesn’t love them, Draco will.” She’d found out a few weeks into their marriage that her husband secretly adored anything to do with dragons. She still wasn’t sure if he was obsessed with dragons _because_ of his name, or if the name just happened fit him well because of his dragon obsession.

Someone pushed another box toward her, and she spent the next hour opening what seemed like a thousand presents. She soon decided that though wizards weren’t superior to muggles in any other way, wizarding baby showers were definitely superior to the muggle version. Every gift was either stain-proof, self-cleaning, self-heating, self-cooling, self-drying or otherwise spelled to perform its task automatically. Wizards definitely had it made when it came to this whole parenting thing.

Finally, there was only one present left; a large wicker hamper...from Molly. Fleur passed it to her with an encouraging smile, and Hermione accepted it with trembling hands. When she flipped back the lid, she gasped. Inside were two complete sets of hand knit baby items, made from the softest yarn she’d ever touched. There were multiple sweaters, booties, bonnets, and blankets. One set was done in a soft, dusty rose and the other in sky blue. The sweaters and blankets each bore a large, embroidered ‘M,’ embroidered in white silk. “Molly! This must have taken you forever...” Hermione said tearfully. “Thank you!”

“Well, you don’t know what you’re having, and I didn’t want everything the child owns to be in neutral colors. Hopefully you’ll have one of each someday, so you can use it all. If not, maybe you can give the other set to someone else. The monogram can be changed.” Molly waved her hand dismissively, but Hermione could hear the slight tremble in her voice.

She set the hamper down beside her chair and struggled to her feet. Fleur offered her a hand, pulling her upright, and Hermione half-marched, half-waddled around the table to the chair where Molly was sitting (now looking a bit anxious). “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always need you in my life,” Hermione murmured just loud enough for the other witch (and no one else) to hear, before leaning over and hugging her tightly. She felt the older woman shudder before her arms came up and wrapped around Hermione in a warm embrace.

“I love you, too,” Molly whispered. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. It’s just...”

“I know why,” Hermione interrupted. “I understand.” Her back was beginning to ache in this position, and the baby kicked vigorously in protest at being squished between them, so she let go with a groan.

“Ooh, she’s a strong one...” Molly chuckled, rubbing Hermione’s belly as she straightened up.

“She?” Hermione asked, tilting her head to the side. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

“Did I say 'she?'” Molly grinned sheepishly. “After Percy was born, I got in the habit of calling all my babies 'she.' Wishful thinking and all that.” She wouldn’t quite look Hermione in the eye, but Hermione decided to drop the subject.

“So...does anyone else want cake now?” She asked hopefully.

Narcissa laughed and clapped her hands. Bitsy and her daughter Iris, who looked proud at being allowed to help with such an important task, immediately appeared carrying a towering five tier cake covered in multi-colored flowers. It looked almost like a wedding cake, and Hermione burst out laughing. “Did Melaina get confused about what we’re celebrating?” She asked her mother-in-law teasingly. “There’s enough to feed an army!”

“Well, the men will want some,” Narcissa smirked. “And lately, you can’t seem to make up your mind what flavor you want, so I had her make yellow cake, chocolate, strawberry, carrot and red velvet...” She pointed at each layer as she spoke, the red velvet layer being the largest and yellow the smallest.

At the mention of red velvet cake, the baby kicked so hard it took Hermione's breath away for a moment, forcing her to bend over slightly and clutch the back of a nearby chair.

“Are you alright, dear?” Narcissa asked worriedly.

“I’m fine. Apparently your grandchild really likes the idea of red velvet right now.” Hermione laughed faintly.

“Guess we’d better get him some,” Narcissa said with a grin.

“Him?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

“As much as I’d love a granddaughter, the Malfoy bloodline does lean quite heavily toward producing males.” Narcissa shrugged slightly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We’ll see...” she mumbled, winking at Molly, who she'd caught shaking her head almost imperceptibly. "Maybe you should make a bet on it?"

The two older women looked at each other, both narrowing their eyes slightly, then smiling. "You're on!" they declared in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 7/21/15 for grammar issues. (And I had forgotten to ever introduce the fifth Malfoy elf)!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's baby time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might not end up being 24 chapters after all. Chapter 24 was supposed to be a brief epilogue, but no one is really behaving, and Kingsley is suddenly wanted to talk, and talk (...and talk!), so there's a good chance it's probably going to end up being 25 chapters.
> 
> I tried not to get to graphic about the delivery...childbirth is kind of nasty. lol

_April 30, 1999_

“'Mi, are you sure you really want to do this?” Draco sounded genuinely worried about her, but Hermione had absolutely no patience left.

“You heard Healer Singh!” She growled frustratedly. “I’m going to go insane if I don’t get this...this _thing_ out of me, like, yesterday!” She grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him toward their bed. “She said having sex might help. We only have an hour until we have to get ready for dinner, so...Merlin help me, you’d better stop talking and start f-” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as a heavy, cramping pain suddenly coursed through her hips and lower back. She was still frozen in shock when she felt something trickling down her legs.

“Okay! Okay! Bossy...” Draco laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed and beginning to unbutton his shirt; he was completely oblivious to what was happening. “I was just asking.” He finished with his shirt and shrugged it off before reaching for her. “Come on then, you’re the one in such a hurry, you haven’t even taken off your shoes!” He pointed at her feet, then cocked his head to one side. “Why are your shoes wet?”

Hermione tried to speak, but only managed a small squeak. Swallowing, she tried again, croaking, “It’s time.”

His head shot up, his eyes widening almost comically. “T-time. Like... _baby time_?”

Hermione nodded, giving him a weak smile as she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the puddle that had formed around her feet. Unfortunately, her amniotic fluid was still leaking, so she just made the puddle larger. “Shit...”

“Oh, that's...oh...” Draco stared at the floor, then up at her, then back at the floor, before screaming, “ **MUM**!!!” so loudly his voice cracked.

Normally, Hermione would have laughed at his expression, but she was currently absorbed in staring at the rapidly expanding puddle at her feet. “The carpet is probably ruined,” she observed absently.

“The carp...” Draco trailed off, grabbing her gently by the shoulders and making her look at him. “The carpet? You’re really worried about the carpet?” He smiled bemusedly. “Who cares about the bloody carpet?”

“Your grandmother is probably rolling in her grave, but I for one, could care less,” Narcissa said calmly as she walked through the door. “If it cannot be cleaned, we’ll replace it.”

“Mum!” Draco let out a loud sigh of relief. Gesturing at Hermione, he said, “She's having a baby!”

“Yes, I see that, dear,” Narcissa patted him on the cheek. “Not really surprising considering she was due two days ago...” she muttered under her breath. Turning to Hermione, she asked, “How are you feeling, dear? Any contractions yet?”

“Just one,” Hermione replied, nervously rubbing her abdomen. Now that her mother-in-law was here, her mind was clearing quickly, though her heart was still racing. The baby hadn’t been moving as vigorously the last few weeks; it had been slowing down more and more as it had run out of room, but now it was giving small, almost nervous little kicks to her ribs. “About...oh, two minutes ago now.”

“Alright, well, they’re usually pretty far apart at first, as I'm sure you know. It’s probably going to be a while, yet.” Narcissa caressed her cheek. “Is there anything we can do to make you feel more comfortable?”

“I’d like to change my clothes. Um...soggy knickers...” Hermione mumbled, blushing.

“Well, yes, that happens.” Narcissa laughed lightly. She walked to the closet and pulled out a plain, light-weight green nightgown that Hermione had purchased especially for the occasion. She helped Hermione change out of the robes she had been wearing, then clapped her hands excitedly. “I can’t believe he or she is finally almost here!”

“Me either...” Hermione smiled, then exhaled loudly when another contraction hit, a bit stronger than the first. “Oh god...” she bent over, clutching her lower back, where a lot of the pain seemed to be concentrated. It felt like the worst menstrual cramps she’d ever had, multiplied by ten. “Oww...”

“‘Mi!” Draco gasped, stepping toward her with his hands extended. He stopped himself before actually touching her, as if she might break. “What can I do?”

“Ow...rub my back,” Hermione moaned. “Or...shoot me. Does it...really get...worse than this?” She panted, shooting Narcissa a questioning look.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart,” Narcissa admitted ruefully. “But that’s what pain potions are for. Would you like one?”

“Um...” Hermione straightened up and waved Draco’s hands away as the contraction faded. Now that it was over, his touch was just annoying her. “Not yet. Um...maybe? I don’t know?”

Narcissa glanced at her watch. “Well, that one was about ten minutes after the first, so there really is a lot of time left.” She bit her lip thoughtfully, frowning.

“So, what do we do?” Draco asked, beginning to pace.

“Go Floo Harry,” Hermione suggested. “He wanted to be here, and he can keep you from driving us batty while we wait.” She winked teasingly at him.

“Ginny and Luna, too?” He asked.

“They're probably studying for their NEWTS,” Hermione reminded him, shaking her head. “Wait until it gets closer.”

“Perhaps you should try to take a nap, while you still can,” Narcissa suggested. Pulling out her wand, she casually cleaned up the carpet. She then cast a spell on the bed that Hermione knew from one of her pregnancy books written especially for witches would make it impervious to blood and other bodily fluids. She’d been a little surprise to learn that home-births were the norm in the magical community, but given the advantage of multiple healing spells and potions, it sort of made sense. Healer Singh, though she normally focussed more on mental health and neurological issues, _was_ a fully qualified Healer, and because of Draco's condition and desire for privacy, she had agreed to oversee the delivery, just in case there was a problem. She was 'on call,' and would come to the house when it was time for the actual birth, and to give the baby its first examination. She’d taught Narcissa a variety of spells to help her monitor Hermione’s progress, and provided them with potions to ease her pain until it was necessary for the Healer to take over.

“Okay...” Hermione agreed after a moment's hesitation. She hadn’t been sleeping very well, especially since her due date had come and gone. The baby was getting so big, it felt like it was shoving all of her internal organs into her lungs, making it feel like she couldn’t breath when lying down, even on her left side, the way Healer Singh had recommended. The only way she could rest was if she was propped up on several pillows, but it was difficult for her to fall asleep that way. She was beyond ready for the baby to finally arrive.

Narcissa helped her climb up on the bed and get settled in, then closed the curtains, dimming the room considerably. “Call for us if you need anything,” she ordered gently. “I’ll try to get Draco to let you rest for as long as possible.”

“Good luck with that,” Hermione giggled, knowing that he was extremely anxious and excited about the baby’s impending birth. He’d been talking to her stomach for months now, telling the baby all of the things they were going to do together when it ‘got out of there.’

“Harry will help me keep him distracted,” Narcissa muttered. “Or help me tie him up...” Winking, she kissed Hermione on the forehead and left the room, closing the door behind her. Hermione saw the distinct shimmer of magic passing over the door, and knew that her mother-in-law had cast a monitoring charm to amplify any sounds in the room so she could be heard throughout the house if she called out.

She didn’t think that she would be able to sleep, as nervous as she was, but the baby settled down quickly, and she was so worn out that she soon found herself drifting off to sleep, despite having a few more contractions. They didn’t seem to be coming in any sort of regular pattern, and once she was able to force herself to relax a bit with some deep breathing exercises, they weren’t as painful as the first few. She managed to fall into an exhausted slumber after about half an hour.

***

“Wake up, Hermione,” Draco’s voice roused her some time later. She’d only been resting fitfully at best for a while now, though she wasn't sure how long she had been lying there. She'd had several, much more painful contractions since waking up (it was the intensity of the contractions that had initially awoken her), but she'd forced herself to try to relax, and somehow managed to return to a half-trance/half-asleep state in between them. “Wake up...”

“Unh...what time is it?” Hermione asked tiredly as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. The room was much darker now, lit only by a few candles.

“It’s almost eleven. Mum thought we should wake you up now so she can cast some monitoring spells on you,” Draco explained, reaching up to caress her cheek.

“She couldn’t do it while I was asleep?” Hermione wondered grumpily.

“Well, you’ve been moaning pretty regularly every five minutes or so for the last hour...” he said, looking very worried.

“I have?” Hermione blinked. “I didn’t know they were that close together...”

“They are.” His voice was strained, and she noticed that he looked rather pale.

“Awww, you’ve been worried about me?” She asked softly, kissing him lightly. He’d just started to kiss her back when she gasped and pulled away, clutching her stomach. “Bloody hell!” It felt like something was squeezing her intestines and lower back, while simultaneously trying to pull her hips from their sockets. She grabbed Draco’s arms, twisting his sleeves in her fists, and rested her forehead on his chest as she tried to breath through the pain. This one was definitely the worst so far.

“Mum!” Draco turned toward the bedroom door, and Narcissa immediately stepped inside.

“They’re getting closer together. That was barely five minutes,” she murmured, looking at her watch as she approached. “How are you feeling?”

Hermione shook her head, unable to answer yet. Her midsection felt like there was a tight ribbon of pain woven around it, and it had yet to loosen up. Finally, the pain faded, and she slowly sat up straight again. “Oh my god...just kill me...” she panted.

“Right. It sounds like you’re in active labor now,” Narcissa announced, pulling out her wand. “Let me just check...” She waved her wand over Hermione’s stomach, murmuring incantations under her breath. The end of her wand lit up bright green, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I’m going to go floo Healer Singh.”

Hermione stared at her worriedly. “What’s green mean?”

“It means it’s time to go floo Healer Singh,” Narcissa replied; rather unhelpfully, Hermione thought. “Draco, dear, stay with her.”

“Of course,” Draco replied, moving closer to Hermione. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised after catching her eye.

Hermione waited until Narcissa was out of the room, then pressed her forehead to her husband’s. “I’m scared,” she admitted quietly.

“It won’t be that bad,” he said reassuringly. “We have those potions if you really can’t handle it...”

“I’m not worried about that.” Hermione shook her head, pulling back so she could see him better. “Well, I am sort of worried about that...” She reached up and stroked his cheek, then ran her hand down his arm, smoothing the wrinkles she’d left in his sleeve. “I’m worried about this...”

“My shirt? I can get a new one,” he joked, not looking her in the eyes.

“You know what I mean, Dray...” Hermione snapped. Running her hand back up his arm, she cupped his head in her hands and kissed him. “What if we can’t-”

“Let’s not talk about that now,” he interrupted. “I don’t want to think about it. Please...let’s just get through this...” He kissed her forehead, then both of her cheeks before kissing her gently on the lips. “One thing at a time.”

“Okay,” Hermione agreed, leaning against him. He might not want to talk about it, but he wasn’t objecting to her touching him as much as humanly possible, and she refused to let go of him, even when the next contraction hit, before Narcissa had returned. “Fuck! Isn’t there a spell to just...” she started to say when it was over. Luckily, she realized her mistake, and cut herself off before she could actually suggest removing the baby using a spell.

Draco smirked knowingly. “There is, but it’s considered very dark magic. Let’s call it plan Z, hmm?”

“Sorry,” Hermione whispered.

“S’ok,” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s mum that’s touchy about that.”

As if on cue, Narcissa walked in, with Healer Singh right behind her. “You’ll probably be having another one soon,” she announced matter of factly after checking her watch.

“Just missed it, Mum,” Draco told her.

Narcissa and Healer Singh exchanged glances. “Really? That was only about four minutes,” the healer said.

“Yes, really. It was kind of hard to miss,” Hermione retorted, feeling really tired despite her nap, and not in the mood to be second guessed.

“Okaaaaay,” Healer Singh glanced at Narcissa again. Hermione chose to ignore the amused looks the two women exchanged. “Let me just run a couple more spells...” She waved her wand around for a few minutes, and was still casting when another contraction began.

“Oh for...fuuuuuuuu...” Hermione trailed off with a whimper and buried her face against Draco’s shoulder, squeezing his hand tightly. It felt like someone was wringing her out like a towel, and she could barely breath through the pain. When the contraction finally eased up, she realized something. “The loo...I need to use the loo. Really bad.”

“Erm...” Healer Singh tapped her wand against her free hand, smiling. “No, you need to get ready to push.”

Hermione blinked at her, sure she had misheard. “Already? My water barely broke six hours ago.”

“Some women are lucky like that.” The healer shrugged cheerfully.

“Oh my god, I’m not ready for this!” Hermione whimpered, squeezing Draco’s hand again. He winced painfully, and her heart stuttered. “Does that hurt?”

“Well, I think you broke it, so yeah,” he said, grinning weakly.

“I’m sorry!” She gasped, immediately letting go. He smiled reassuringly, but gingerly waved his hand around, making a pained face.

Healer Singh was rummaging around in a black leather case, but she distractedly flicked her wand at him, and he let out a sigh of relief. “A friend of mine who went into midwifery warned me that happens all the time,” she murmured, not looking up. “Where is that bloody potion? Ah!” She pulled out a vial of pale yellow fluid.

Hermione frowned. “Uh, if it’s time to push, I might as well go without a pain potion, right?”

“This isn’t a pain potion. It’s a calming draught for _him_. I have a feeling he might need it,” the healer explained, gesturing at Draco, who was looking a little green.

“Yes, please...” He reached for the vial, looking a little embarrassed.

Hermione smiled proudly. It had taken a while, but Draco was getting much better about admitting when he was feeling anxious about things. And if anyone had a good reason to be anxious right now, it was him. Well...both of them. She watched him slug back the potion, then reached over and very gently squeezed his hand. “I love you,” she whispered, right before she felt her stomach tensing again. “Oh fuck, not again...” she managed to gasp before the pain took her breath away.

“Alright...Draco, help her sit up...in fact, why don't you just get behind her on the bed, and let her lean against you,” Healer Singh ordered calmly. “Narcissa, could you help me clear away all of these blankets before you leave?” They’d already decided that she and Draco would be the only ones to stay in the room for the actual birth.

Draco scrambled to follow the healer’s command, slipping in behind Hermione with his legs on either side of her, and then pulling her back against his chest. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be fine,” he whispered, kissing her temple.

“Okay, Hermione, I need you to pull your knees up toward your chest, then take a deep breath and hold it,” Healer Singh said. “Draco, help her hold her legs back. Bear down, Hermione...it’s just like going to the bathroom.”

Hermione barely noticed what Draco was doing. Her pelvic bone felt like it was going to split apart, and her lower abdomen felt like it was in a vice, but when she sucked in a deep breath and tried to push, the pain did ease up a bit. It didn’t necessarily feel _better_ , but more bearable somehow.

“Okay, take another breath, but you really need to push toward your bottom. I know it sounds crazy, just trust me,” Healer Singh said, chuckling slightly.

Hermione had read about this (of course), but it still felt completely wrong. She took another breath and tried to obey.

“Alright. That was better.” Healer Singh patted her knee encouragingly as the contraction ended. “Just relax now until the next one.”

Hermione flopped back against Draco, panting, and he gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. “You’re doing great, ‘Mi,” he whispered, leaning around to kiss her cheek.

“Ugh,” Hermione grunted, waving her arm weakly. “This sucks.” Draco just chuckled softly and kissed her again. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to relax, but she’d barely gotten her breath back when she felt another contraction coming on. “Noooo,” she complained.

“Come on, Hermione,” Healer Singh said, “You can do this!” She snapped her fingers expectantly at Draco, and he reached to help Hermione pull her legs back.

“I hate both of you,” Hermione grumbled before she took a deep breath and began pushing again.

***

After several contractions, Hermione was too exhausted to say anything during the brief reprieve in between. She just went limp in Draco’s arms and prayed silently to whoever or whatever might be listening that this would end soon. Healer Singh had announced after the last one that she could now see the baby’s head even between pushes, but Hermione was _really_ starting to wish she would just do some sort of spell to get it out of her. There was so much pressure in her pelvis that it felt like she was literally being torn in two, and it wasn’t easing up at all between the contractions. “Just get it out...” she whined, struggling to sit up when the next contraction began.

“Maybe this time,” Healer Singh said soothingly. “You’re so close. If not this one, the next one. The baby’s right here...now push.”

Hermione knew she was supposed to try not to make any sound while pushing. Healer Singh and the books had said that making noise prevented her from pushing as efficiently, or some such nonsense. Hermione strongly suspected it was all just an excuse to keep her from screaming, or cursing everyone in sight into next Tuesday. With this push, though, she could actually _feel_ the baby’s head moving further down, and instead of just pressure, she started to feel a sharp, burning pain that really felt like her skin was being ripped open, rather than it just being a figure of speech. “Oww! Ow! Ow!” She gasped, unable to help herself.

“Hang on a moment..." Healer Singh murmured something, and Hermione felt a weird warming sensation on her bottom. The stinging pain there eased immediately. "Okay. Keep pushing, Hermione!” Healer Singh said excitedly. “It’s coming! Good job!”

“Come on baby, you can do it!” Draco urged, turning his head and kissing her cheek quickly before he stretched his neck around to try to see what was going on between her legs.

Suddenly, most of the pressure let up with an almost sickening, wet lurch. Hermione could swear she heard an actual pop just as Healer Singh exclaimed, “The head is out! Great job! One more push and he or she will be here...”

Hermione rested for just a few seconds, then took a huge breath and pushed as hard as she could. Fortunately, the baby’s shoulders and torso slipped out of her with very little effort, compared to the head. Elated, she flopped breathlessly against Draco, closing her eyes and panting hard while Healer Singh cleared the baby’s airway and cut the cord (Draco had said he wanted no part in it because the sight of blood was still an issue for him sometimes). When a high, piercing cry split the air, she felt a sudden rush of renewed energy, and eagerly lifted her head to watch as the healer cleaned the baby off with a soft towel. “Hermione, Draco...meet your daughter!” Healer Singh announced a few seconds later, beaming at them as she laid the screaming baby on Hermione’s chest and draped a clean towel over them.

“Oh my god...it’s a girl?” Hermione whispered, pulling back the towel to reveal what were definitely girl parts. “Oh my god...she’s a girl!” She turned to Draco, who was staring at the baby with an awed look on his face. She could certainly relate. “I thought Malfoys don’t have daughters?” She teased, elbowing him gently before she reverently touched each of the baby’s perfect, tiny little fingers.

“It must be those awesome muggle genes of yours, running rampant over our ancient traditions,” he said, shrugging. There was no sarcasm in his tone, and he never took his eyes off the baby. Reaching around, he stroked the baby's tiny, red cheek, and she immediately turned toward his fingers. “Hi, baby girl,” he whispered, smiling incredulously.

“Lyra,” Hermione corrected, reminding him of the name they’d chosen on the off chance that they had a girl. “I guess we’ll have to save 'Scorpius' for next time?”

"I guess so," Draco chuckled distractedly. “Hi, Lyra,” he crooned at the baby. "I'm your Daddy." She opened one slate blue eye, glared up at him in an unfocused way, then closed it again, making tiny, disgruntled noises.

“She’s definitely your daughter,” Hermione giggled, smiling at Draco.

“I dunno. I think she has your hair,” Draco said, running his finger over the one small curl on top of her otherwise bald head.

“But...it could be blonde...maybe,” Hermione mumbled. She was squinting at the baby’s wet hair, trying to determine the color, when she felt a dull cramp, like a small contraction. “Ow...”

“Oh, that’s the afterbirth,” Healer Singh murmured. “This will be easy...just relax and let your body get rid of it...”

Hermione was so focused on her daughter’s face, that she barely even noticed the slightly gross sensation when something (her brain absently registered that it was the baby's placenta) slid out of her. She did notice when Draco suddenly went still behind her. “Dray?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, but his voice sounded strained, and he stopped stroking Lyra's hair, his hand frozen in place.

“No...” Hermione whispered. Her heart froze in her chest. 

“I’m fine,” Draco said, shaking his head frantically. Hermione turned to look and found his eyes screwed shut. She suddenly felt like she was going to be sick.

Healer Singh looked up with a worried look on her face. “Draco?”

“I’m fine!” He repeated, but he was clenching his jaw so hard Hermione could hear his teeth grinding against each other, and he leaned away from her slightly.

“No. No. No...” Hermione started shaking her head as well, her vision blurring.

“Let me up,” Draco groaned finally, his voice thick with tears. “I...I’ve gotta get up...”

Hermione leaned forward, and he quickly climbed off the bed, his sudden absence leaving her feeling cold. "Draco?" He just stood with his back to her, his shoulders shaking. Hermione spun on Healer Singh, who looked like she might be about to cry as well. “Can’t you do something?!” she demanded.

“I...there are a few things we can try, but you need to recover from the delivery first,” the healer said quietly.

Draco took a deep, shaky breath, and rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m gonna go tell Mum and the others that Lyra’s here,” he said, still not looking at Hermione.

“Draco!” Hermione reached out and tugged on his sleeve. He gently, but very deliberately pulled his arm away.

“I just...I need a minute, ‘Mi.” He half turned, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll be right back.” He smiled weakly, but the effect was ruined by the tears streaming freely down his cheeks. He quickly turned back toward the door and walked away.

Futilely wiping the tears from her own eyes, Hermione looked back down at their daughter, wondering how it was even possible that anyone could feel so happy and absolutely devastated at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really hard to write. You can ask my BFF...I started texting her in tears by the end of it, and had to stop and take an ice cream break. For an hour. lol I know Hermione's being a tiny bit over dramatic about it, because there are a LOT worse things that could have happened, but she was really tired and emotions were running high (the characters AND mine). I think they'd both tried to convince themselves it wouldn't happen this way. I guess they haven't met my muse. She's kind of a sadistic b****.
> 
> Oh, and Lyra's birthday is April 30, 1999. I always meant for her to be overdue, just so Hermione could suffer a bit (see previous statement about my muse) but I didn't plan to have her due date SO close to the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. I decided early on that Draco's trial would be held on August 3rd 1998, just to give the Ministry some time to prepare, and conduct the other trials that had come before his. Lyra ended up being conceived on August 6th, 1998. By the time I realized that meant she was due right around the time of the anniversary of the battle, I really just didn't want to go back and change it. Always do your math ahead of time. And...I'm babbling. It's 3am. Shutting up now.
> 
> Edited 7/11/15: I just wanted to clear up what happened here...until Hermione passed the placenta, she still technically had part of Lyra (and therefore Draco's DNA) inside her, so they could still touch. As soon it was out, having Hermione in his arms and leaning against him started to hurt him. It wasn't the baby.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really two parts. The last part switches to Narcissa's perspective, because it was just funnier that way. It takes place several weeks later, but it wasn't really long enough to give it its own chapter, so I tacked it on to the end of this one.

_May 2, 1998_  
  
It was an absolutely beautiful day, and everything should have been perfect. Hermione was sitting in a comfortable rocking chair in the solarium, staring into her daughter’s face while Lyra nursed. She was a little tired, but thanks to a few truly brilliant healing potions Healer Singh had given to her, she was feeling really good. Physically, anyway. The sun was shining, and she could hear birds chirping through the screen door leading to the back yard. Dunkin was snoring softly at her feet, and Ginny and Luna were sitting nearby, talking quietly about the latter’s upcoming wedding. Everything was perfect...unless you counted the fact that Hermione’s husband was avoiding both her and their child like the plague.  
  
She understood why he was staying away from her; she really did. She almost appreciated his absence in a bizarre sort of way. Just the _thought_ of him made her heart hurt; she was sure seeing him, but not being able to touch him...to hold him...would be a thousand times worse. They’d known all along that his ability to touch her without pain might disappear with the baby’s birth, so it wasn’t really a surprise that it had. Just a crushing disappointment.  
  
What she didn’t understand was why he was also avoiding _Lyra_. He’d been so excited in the months leading up to her birth, and now he had barely even looked at her. Healer Singh said that he was probably just depressed, but Hermione had a feeling it was more than that. It especially frustrated her because she'd been unable to confront him about it. Lyra was barely 36 hours old, but he’d spent almost the entire time locked in a room on the second floor, where he had retreated soon after announcing the birth to their friends and family.  
  
The other thing marring her happiness was the fact that today was the first anniversary of Voldemort’s death, and there was a sadness in the house that wasn't solely attributable to the situation with Draco. Too many lives had been lost on this day last year. There was a huge ceremony scheduled at the Ministry of Magic later that afternoon, but amongst her circle of friends, only Harry was planning to attend, and that was only because he was being all but physically forced to by Kingsley. At least Luna and Ginny had a long weekend in honor of the morbid occasion, so they'd been able to come see Lyra right away. Even Ron was home from training for the Cannons for a few days, though he was currently at Grimmauld, spending time with Harry.  
  
Lyra suddenly pulled away from her nipple and let out a small cry, distracting Hermione from her dreary thoughts. “Aww...are you full?” Hermione crooned, carefully placing the infant against her shoulder so she could burp her. She was becoming more confident in handling the baby, but she was still a little nervous. She'd babysat during the summer when she was a bit younger, but had never had to care for a newborn.  
  
Upon hearing Lyra's cry, both Ginny and Luna visibly perked up. Even though they'd been there all weekend, they’d both been waiting impatiently for several minutes for her to finish eating so they could hold her again. “My turn!” Ginny declared before Luna could speak.  
  
Just then, Lyra let out a loud fart, followed by the distinct sound of...something  more substantial than a fart.    
  
“Yes...it’s most definitely _your_ turn.” Luna chuckled dryly, continuing to flip through a thick, leather bound book covered in strange gold symbols.  
  
“She’s all yours, Gin,” Hermione agreed, smirking as she stood up and handed her daughter to her friend, who, to her credit, really didn’t look all that fazed by the prospect of changing a poopy diaper.  
  
“I’ve been helping Andromeda on weekends for a year now. I’m used to it.” Ginny shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe how much poo little Teddy can produce.”  
  
Hermione laughed. “I’ll leave you to it, then, Miss Expert.”  
  
“Oh, you’ll be the expert in no time.” Ginny smiled reassuringly.  
  
“Even Harry has gotten good with Teddy,” Luna announced calmly. Hermione tilted her head to the side, trying to make out the picture in the book on the blonde's lap. She'd thought they were researching wedding traditions, but it looked like the man and woman on the page in front of her were swallowing flaming swords. "You and Draco will be fine."  
  
Hermione nodded and looked away, blinking back tears that seemed to come out of nowhere. Just hearing his name felt like a punch in the stomach.  
  
“Hey, Draco will come around,” Luna murmured, patting her on the arm. "He must be so disappointed  
  
Hermione had been too distraught to come up with excuses for Draco's odd behavior, so Ginny was now in on the secret, and she also nodded in agreement. “It’s got to be so hard...for both of you,” she said as she laid Lyra on a changing pad on one of the room’s many loveseats and pulled a clean diaper from a covered basket underneath a side table. The house elves had thoughtfully left stashes of diapers and changing supplies in discrete locations in practically every room of the house over the last few weeks. “Oh Merlin...what are you feeding this kid?” She gagged when she opened the baby’s soiled diaper.  
  
“That’s meconium, it's what built up inside her while I was pregnant,” Hermione explained, wrinkling her nose. “She’ll start having normal poo in a day or so.”  
  
“Ewww. Poor baby,” Ginny cooed, holding her nose with one hand and using her wand to vanish the dirty diaper and clean the baby’s bottom.  
  
“How do muggles manage?” Luna asked, wrinkling her nose slightly. “I’m so glad I’m a witch. Harry and I want lots of children, but I don’t think I’d want to do _that_ without magic.”  
  
Hermione laughed. “I’ve changed my cousin’s baby the muggle way before. It’s not that hard.” Luna shot her a dubious look. “Okay, it’s pretty bad. I’m glad I’m a witch, too.”  
  
“So am I, or we wouldn't have met.” Hermione’s head shot up and all three women turned toward the entrance to the library. Draco was standing there, still wearing the clothes he’d had on when Lyra was born. His hair was completely disheveled, and he had large, dark circles under his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his eyes shifting back and forth between Hermione and Lyra.  
  
Ginny quickly finished changing Lyra’s diaper, scooped her up, and handed her back to Hermione. Grabbing Luna’s hand, she dragged the blonde outside with a quick, “Excuse us!”  
  
Hermione stood up and walked over to Draco. “Do you want to hold her?” she whispered, holding Lyra out to him.  
  
“Um...” He looked longingly at the baby, but swallowed hard before shaking his head. “I don’t know if I should...”  
  
Hermione frowned, and then realized what was bothering him. “Are you afraid you can’t touch her, either?”  
  
He bit his lip and shrugged, his eyes filling with tears. “What if it hurts _her_? We don't know what's wrong with me, just that I’m some kind of freak.”  
  
“You’re not a freak!” She hissed angrily. Lyra started to cry, and Hermione hugged her close, swaying from side to side until she settled down. “Of course you can touch her! She’s the only reason you could...we could...” She choked back a sob. “Just...hold her, Dray. You can. Of course you can.” She held Lyra out to him again.  
  
This time, he swallowed hard, but carefully took the baby from her, biting his lip when their hands brushed against each other for a moment. When he had Lyra securely in his arms, Hermione stepped back, smiling. “See? You’re both fine.”  
  
Draco smiled at her, looking embarrassed, then shifted his attention to his daughter. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly before kissing Lyra’s forehead.  
  
“I love you anyway,” Hermione said.  
  
“I love you, too,” he said, looking up at her before focusing on Lyra again. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered reverently.   
  
“She is,” Hermione agreed, laughing softly when Lyra farted again. “A bit on the gassy side, though. She just ate. You should probably burp her some more, I got interrupted before...”  
  
Draco awkwardly shifted the baby to his shoulder and started patting her back. “So...are _you_ okay? I’m so sorry, luv.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Hermione assured him. Frowning a bit, she said, “I missed you.”  
  
“I’m an arse, ‘Mi,” he murmured. “I didn't handle it well at all, I know. I just...I was really hoping...”  
  
“I was, too,” Hermione cut him off. “We’ll figure something out, Draco. Healer Singh said she had some ideas...”  
  
“I know.” He looked up and gave her a weak smile. “I just want to hold you.”  
  
“I know,” she sighed. “Me too.” She reached out and stroked Lyra’s cheek, then yawned widely.  
  
“Why don’t you go get some rest?” Draco suggested, reaching out as if to touch her cheek, but lowering his hand at the last second. “I can take care of her for a while.”  
  
“Okay,” Hermione agreed after a moment. Between feeding and changing Lyra every few hours, and just plain worrying about Draco for the last day and a half, she was exhausted. “You’ll bring her to me if she gets hungry?”  
  
“Of course,” he promised, sounding a bit impatient. Before she could try to avoid him, he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, wincing noticeably before he pulled away. Turning his back on her, he mumbled. “You need your rest.”  
  
***  
  
Two hours later, like clockwork, Hermione woke up and looked around the bedroom, confused as to what had woken her. When she sat up, the heavy pressure in her breasts reminded her that it was probably time to feed Lyra. Groaning, she hauled herself out of bed and shuffled toward the door, trying to think where Draco might be. Her brain was kind of foggy; the short nap seemed to have made her even more tired than she had been before.  
  
When she stuck her head in the nursery door, her husband and daughter were nowhere in sight. Frowning, she headed downstairs, planning to look in the kitchen. As she passed the second floor landing, she thought she heard Draco's muffled voice, so she began to explore. Other than her first tour of the house, she had never really spent any time on this floor, wanting to give Narcissa her privacy. Now, she found the door of one of the many rooms she hadn't entered before standing partially ajar. “You’re so pretty. Just like your mummy! Yes you are!” Draco cooed in a high, silly voice on the other side.  
  
Smiling, Hermione peeked through the opening and gasped.  
  
What she had always assumed was yet another bedroom was actually a small art studio. Being a corner room, it had windows along two walls, facing south and west. There were dust cloths covering what appeared to be several large canvases propped against the two longer walls. One of these had been disturbed, revealing part of a half finished painting of Rosier Court itself. Lyra was sound asleep, lying in a large wicker basket, with a soft pink blanket draped across her hips. The truly surprising thing was the sight of Draco standing at a large easel, holding a palette in one hand and a paint brush in the other. His hands and clothes were covered in specks of paint, and there was a smear of dark pink across his left cheek. The canvas in front of him bore an extremely lifelike rendition of Lyra’s sleeping face, though the rest of the painting was only roughly outlined. Suddenly, something clicked. “It was you,” Hermione said, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Draco stiffened slightly, but turned and smiled sheepishly. Gesturing at the painting, she said, “That picture of your mum...the one in the ballroom. _You_ painted it.”  
  
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, not bothering to deny it. “I told you I’d bring her to you when she got hungry.”  
  
“Well, my boobs got tired of waiting,” Hermione muttered. He blinked at her, looking a bit confused. Rolling her eyes, she said, “I think my milk’s finally coming in. I need to feed her before they explode.”  
  
“Ah...” He glanced at his watch. “Wow, I didn’t realize it’d been so long.”  
  
“Time flies when you’re having fun?” Hermione asked, tilting her head toward the painting and smirking a bit.  
  
“I guess.” He smiled and rubbed his chin with the hand holding the paintbrush, leaving a streak of white along his jaw. “It wasn’t for a long time. Fun, I mean. I haven’t painted anything since before You-Know-Who came back.”  
  
“Wait, you painted that picture of Narcissa before you were fourteen?” Hermione asked, gaping at him.  
  
“I was barely eleven. I painted it the summer before I started at Hogwarts,” he said, shrugging slightly. "Mum had to cast the spell to make it move for me."  
  
“Draco, that’s amazing!” Hermione gushed, stepping closer to him. She almost hugged him before she managed to stop herself. Clearing her throat, she moved away again, waving her hand at the cloth covered canvases along the walls. “Are these all paintings?” She asked, bending to examine the one of Rosier Court. When she looked closer, she realized it wasn’t quite finished. One corner of the sky and parts of the the lawn were bare, and nothing was moving.   
  
“Most of the ones along that wall are still blank,” Draco explained, pointing at the west wall. “Some of those, too..." He pointed at the row in front of her. "I don't think any of them are completely done. I sort of had trouble back then...finishing what I started.”  
  
“Can I...” She tilted her head questioningly as she touched the corner of the cloth covering the next panel.  
  
“Knock yourself out...” He shrugged casually before turning toward Lyra, who had started to squirm a bit in her sleep.  
  
“Maybe some other time,” Hermione mumbled, rushing over to the basket. Lyra’s eyes opened a crack, slid shut, then fluttered open again for a bit longer before she let out a plaintive cry. “Aww...are you hungry, luv?” Hermione picked her up, cradling her in her arms for a moment before she sniffed,grimacing at the foul aroma coming from the baby's diaper. “Phew! How can anyone so cute smell so awful?” She looked around, but unfortunately the elves hadn’t left any baby supplies in this particular room.  
  
“Mum’s got a changing table in her room,” Draco said, chuckling.  He motioned toward the door. “Shall we?”  
  
Hermione nodded and followed him to Narcissa’s suite. Draco knocked, and his mother called out a soft, “Come in,” before he opened the door. Hermione had never actually been in her mother-in-laws suite, but wasn’t surprised to find that it was laid out almost exactly the same as the master suite, though the furniture was all carved from ebony rather than maple. Narcissa was seated on a loveseat near the fireplace, reading a book, which she set on a nearby end table as they walked in. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” she asked.  
  
“Not so pleasant, I’m afraid,” Hermione giggled. “We are in desperate need of a changing table and I heard yours is the closest?”  
  
“Ah, well, allow me...” Narcissa jumped up and reached for Lyra.  
  
“You don’t have to...” Hermione began.  
  
“Nonsense,” Narcissa scolded gently. “She’s my granddaughter. I want to.” She carried the baby over to a corner, where a dresser with a padded top was partially hidden by a large potted palm. She laid Lyra down on top, and a moment later exclaimed, “Goodness!”  
  
“I told you you didn’t have to,” Hermione reminded her in a sing song voice. Draco chuckled and touched her on the shoulder for a moment before pulling his hand away. Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway at the affectionate gesture.  
  
A few minutes later, after a lot of fussing and cooing, Narcissa brought Lyra back to Hermione. “I think someone’s hungry.” She chuckled as Lyra immediately turned her head toward her mother and started rooting around clumsily.  
  
“I certainly hope so...” Hermione muttered. “Um, I’ll just take her upstairs...”  
  
“Nonsense, you can feed her here, if you’d like.” Narcissa ushered her toward a plush armchair near the window. “I need to go see Melaina about what we’re serving for dinner on Friday, but feel free to stay here for as long as you’d like.” She turned to Draco, who was lingering near the door. “Both of you.”  
  
“Are Ginny and Luna gone?” Hermione asked as she settled in the chair and adjusted her shirt and bra so Lyra could latch on.  
  
“Yeah, they had to go hit the books,” Draco said, sitting down in a second, less comfortable looking chair across from them. “I think Luna was making a slight detour to Harry’s place, since they don't have to be back at Hogwarts until tomorrow night.” He sat back in his chair, watching Lyra eat, and rubbing his thumb against his lower lip the way he did when Hermione knew he was thinking something over.  
  
“What is it?” She asked finally, after she'd switched Lyra to the other side. The baby didn’t seem to be all that hungry anymore, but she was hoping to relieve at least a little of the pressure before the next feeding.  
  
Draco bit his lip, then sighed. “Well, Luna had a suggestion...” He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then sighed again. “It’s probably crazy.”  
  
“Well, she is _Luna_...” Hermione joked. “Her idea must have some merit, or you wouldn’t be obsessing over it.”  
  
“I’m not obsessing,” he scoffed. Hermione just raised an eyebrow. Leaning forward in his chair, he rested his elbows on his knees and took a deep breath. “Have you ever considered trying to become an animagus?”  
  
Whatever madness Hermione might have been expecting, it wasn’t _that_. “What?” She asked, laughing softly. “What in the world does that have to do with anything?”  
  
“Okay, now, first of all, I’m not suggesting this as some sort of, um, sexual thing, because...eww. No.” Now he really had her curiosity peaked. “But, well, she pointed out that I don’t have trouble touching the fur kids...”  
  
“Oh my god, you want me to turn into a cat so you can...what, exactly?” Hermione exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. "Pet me? Kinky much?"  
  
“No! Look, I told you it wouldn’t be for anything sexual. That’s gross. But we’d at least be able to, I don't know...cuddle.” He said, wringing his hands together in his lap. “I just want to be close to you.”  
  
Hermione sighed and rubbed her right temple with her free hand. She was suddenly developing a massive headache. “I don’t know, Dray...that’s kinda weird, don’t you think? I mean, even if we _could_ , who knows what our forms would be...” She grinned as she pictured a mountain lion trying to snuggle with a python.  
  
"I know." He exhaled softly. “You’re probably right...”  
  
“It might help with your work though...” Hermione bit her lip. “I mean, sometimes injured animals respond better to other animals, right?”  
  
“Depending on the types of animals in question, yes,” Draco said, snickering. “Not sure a ferret’s gonna be much help in that sort of situation.”  
  
“Oh, come on, that wasn’t really _you_...that was just what Barty Crouch Jr wanted you to become,” Hermione giggled. “Besides, you were kind of cute.”  
  
“I’m always cute," he said, pretending to preen, then rolling his eyes. "But that’s not really the point.”  
  
“You really want to try it?” Hermione asked. Just then, Lyra stopped suckling, and started to grunt and arch her back. Hermione moved to burp her, but Draco jumped up and took the baby from her.  
  
“Let me...” He carefully propped her up against his shoulder and started walking back and forth while patting her on the back. Hermione just watched him silently, giving him time to think. “Um...yeah, I do,” he answered a few minutes later, giving her a wry smile.  
  
“Okay, well...I guess we should do some research. Maybe talk to Minerva?” Hermione wasn’t really sure where to start, but the Headmistress seemed like the logical place. "But you're explaining why."  
  
"Deal," he said, flashing her one of the happy, open smiles that had made her fall for him in the first place.  
  
***  
  
_June 18, 1999_  
  
“Where _are_ they?” Narcissa muttered to herself, glancing at her watch. They were expecting several guests for Harry and Luna's rehearsal dinner in a few hours, but she couldn’t find her son, daughter-in-law, or granddaughter anywhere. Harry and Luna had arrived about an hour previously, but the happy couple was also nowhere to be found. Having searched the entire house, she was headed toward the stables when she heard excited barking, and then Luna’s unmistakable bubbling laughter.  
  
“Oh my god, that’s hilarious!” Harry exclaimed as she got closer.  
  
“Hush. I think it’s sweet,” Luna murmured. “At least they’re the same species.”  
  
“What in the world?” Narcissa frowned, increasing her pace. There was more barking as she drew nearer to the stable door, but it didn’t sound like Dunkin. Just as she reached the entrance, a tiny cream colored chihuahua bolted outside with Dunkin hot on its heels. The new dog yelped fearfully, and started making a mad dash toward the house, but Dunkin, being slightly larger, was rapidly catching up. “Oh my!” Narcissa gasped, wincing when the crup knocked the smaller dog down, sending it rolling head over heels a few times before it landed in the grass, stunned.  
  
“Hermione!” Harry yelled from inside the barn, no longer sounding amused. “Wait!”  
  
“Oh just let her go, Harry,” Luna said airily. “It’s not like she’s a real dog, silly.”  
  
“What?!” Narcissa blurted, rushing toward the door. Before she could get inside, a medium sized dog with long, curly brown fur dashed outside, nearly knocking her down. Narcissa had never seen anything like it, and yet something about its eyes seemed familiar. It raced toward the chihuahua, which was just struggling to its feet, with Dunkin bouncing around it excitedly. The larger dog skidded to a stop beside them, pushing Dunkin away with its head, then cautiously extending its muzzle to the chihuahua. The smaller dog took a step closer, pausing with one paw in midair before bumping its nose against the other dog’s. They both remained still for a long moment, seeming almost frozen. Then, the smaller dog jumped forward, rubbing its tiny body all along the other dog's side before turning back around and doing it again, and again, yipping excitedly the whole time. The curly hair dog barked once, rather loudly, then flopped on its side, allowing the chihuahua to lay across its neck. Both dogs’ tails were wagging like mad. After watching this display, Dunkin slowly crept closer, then cocked his head to the side, looking more than a little confused before finally plopping down on the grass a short distance away from the pair.  
  
Harry came out of the barn, and let out a loud sigh of relief. “Oh, good! It worked!”  
  
“What worked?” Narcissa asked tightly, a horrible suspicion growing in her chest. “Tell me that is not my son!” She pointed accusingly at the chihuahua, which bowed its head and whimpered softly.  
  
“Well...” Harry glanced at a faint scar on the back of his left hand, then grinned ruefully. “Do you want me to tell you _that_ , or do you want the truth?” he asked rather cheekily.  
  
“It’s not permanent, Narcissa,” Luna said as she joined them with Lyra in her arms. “They just learned to be animagi so they can touch each other again.”  
  
“ _This_ is what they’ve been up to all this time?” Narcissa exclaimed as several things about the last month or so suddenly made sense...all the whispering, hours locked up in the library, and owls back and forth between them and Minerva McGonagall. “They’re...they’re dogs!” She yelled.  
  
“They are.” Luna nodded agreeably. Harry just looked away, wincing guiltily. “We were half expecting a ferret and an otter. They would have been closer to the same size then, but at least this way they’re the same species...”  
  
Narcissa grunted irritably. “This is ridiculous. Why would they go to such an extreme?”  
  
“We told you, they just wanted to be able to touch without it hurting Draco,” Harry said.  
  
Narcissa looked over at the two dogs. The larger one...Hermione...was licking the chihuahua’s head. A horrible thought occurred to her. “They didn’t do this so they can...you know?” She grimaced, unable to voice what she was thinking.  
  
“No!” Harry laughed. “No. No. Worlds of no. They just missed being able to...you know...snuggle.”  
  
“If they did make love like that, and conceived, do you suppose it would be a human baby, or puppies?” Luna mused quietly. Hermione let out a sound that sounded halfway between a growl and a disgusted moan. Draco just yelped indignantly.  
  
“Not helping, Lu,” Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
“I was just wondering.” Luna shrugged cheerfully. Handing Lyra to Narcissa, she walked over to Hermione and Draco. “You should probably make sure you can turn back, now.”  
  
Both dogs sat up and whined pitifully.  
  
“Come on, guys, she’s right,” Harry said, joining his fiance. “Remember what McGonagall said; you don’t want to stay that way too long the first time. Do you want to be stuck that way?”  
  
The chihuahua stuck out its tongue, but then closed its eyes and slowly morphed back into Draco, looking sweaty and rumpled, but quite happy. He bent down and rubbed Hermione’s shoulder, and she nuzzled his hand affectionately before closing her eyes and transforming back as well. They smiled adoringly at each other. Draco leaned down to quickly brush his lips against her cheek before turning to Narcissa, who was still standing there, openly staring at them. “Can you watch Lyra for a bit while we go get ready for dinner?” Without waiting for an answer, the couple turned and walked toward the house, staying just a few centimeters apart...as close as they could be without touching.  
  
“Well...I never...” Narcissa murmured finally, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.  
  
“You should try it sometime,” Luna suggested cheerfully. “It’s quite lovely.”  
  
“Y-you’re an animagus?” Narcissa asked, surprised and yet somehow...not.  
  
“I’m a gazelle,” Luna said, nodding. “Harry’s still trying, but I bet he’s a stag, like his father.”  
  
Narcissa glanced at Harry, who just shrugged uncertainly. “At least things are never boring around here...” she muttered, shaking her head and carrying Lyra inside.

***

These two look exactly how I picture Draco and Hermione in their animagi forms. (She's a Portuguese Water Dog, btw, but Narcissa doesn't know that).

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse wasn't willing to fix Draco yet, but she was willing to toss them a bone, so to speak. lol The animagus thing was semi-inspired by a comment from frogfear. I was sort of jokingly batting the idea around in the deeper, weirder recesses of my mind (with no intention of actually using it) until she said something, and I decided to go for it. I really hope it doesn't come off as some creepy fur fetish thing because (despite Luna's comments) that was NOT what I was going for...they're just gonna cuddle. lol
> 
> Speaking of Luna, now that this story is almost completed, I've started working on a companion piece, which will tell the story of Harry's struggle to come to grips with everything that happened during the war, and, of course, his relationship with Luna. I'm pretty sure it's going to be called "By Moonlight," unless I can come up with something better. Titles really aren't my thing! I'm sure that's probably blatantly obvious already... :-p
> 
> Edited 7/21/15 for grammar. No significant changes.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the moment they've been waiting for!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another long jump in time here. Lyra is now 13 months old. Oh, and I know Muggle law school comes after four years of undergrad, but since I don't even think there are wizard universities, I'm just gonna say Hermione didn't have to worry about the undergrad bit and went straight into studying to be a laywer. Or barrister? Whatever wizards would call them.

  
_May 26, 2000_  
  
“Come on, Draco,” Hermione sighed frustratedly. “We have to start getting ready. Your appointment is in half an hour.” She glared at the cream colored chihuahua sitting on the foot of the bed. “You can’t be a dog _all_ the time. Unless you want me to take you to see Marcos instead of Healer Singh?”  
  
He turned back almost instantly. “You’re no fun,” he pouted, only half joking.  
  
“I know, but she said she had something important to go over with us,” Hermione reminded him. “Are you sure it's alright to bring Lyra?”  
  
“Yes. She specifically complained that she hasn't seen her in ages,” Draco replied. Glancing over at the window seat where their daughter was playing with her much beloved animated dragons, he said, “She _is_ adorable, aren’t you, Leelee?”  
  
Lyra looked up and smiled at him almost completely toothlessly, except for two each on the top and bottom. “Pway!” She held out her favorite dragon, the Chinese Fireball, in an obvious request for her father to join her.  
  
Draco chuckled fondly and ruffled her hair, which now formed a short but curly halo around her head. Contrary to their speculation right after her birth, her hair had turned out to be brown, and exactly like her mother’s in every way, which meant Hermione was constantly chasing the rambunctious one year old, trying to keep the tangles to a minimum.  “Wish we could, Leelee, but we’ve got to go to the mean old healer.”  
  
“Don’t say things like that, or she’ll never want to go when it’s her turn!” Hermione scolded quietly.  
  
Lyra had already gotten a thoughtful look on her face, and Draco winced. “I said the...the...miracle healer!” he said, pumping his fist in false enthusiasm. “Who’s ready to go?”  
  
“Everyone but you,” Hermione told him, laughing and holding up Lyra’s diaper bag and her own purse. “You might want to comb your hair. You look like Dunkin’s been licking you.”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes, but headed for the bathroom. For some reason, the crup always insisted on trying to groom him whenever he switched to his canine form, which happened more frequently all the time. Draco claimed he was making some progress in learning to speak “dog,” but Hermione was suspicious that the real reason he spent so much time as a chihuahua was just to avoid having to talk to _her_. Even when she transformed, too, they couldn’t really communicate well while in their animagi forms. She had watched helplessly as he had grown more and more depressed and withdrawn over recent months. She couldn't really blame him; every potion and spell Healer Singh had come up with thus far had failed to cure his painful aversion to human contact. Lyra was almost thirteen months old now, and the healer still hadn’t made any significant breakthroughs in her research.  
  
“Maybe...” Hermione trailed off, then took a deep breath for courage, and tried again. “Maybe she’s finally willing to help us try in vitro?”  
  
Draco froze. “Maybe she’s finally given up on me, you mean?” The healer had asked them to hold off on using the muggle procedure to try for another child. Some of her possible treatments for Draco’s condition required her to test potions and spells on Hermione, which she couldn’t do if she was pregnant.  
  
“It’s not giving up, Draco. We can still keep trying to find a cure afterward, but if we’re going to have more than one child, I want to do it _now_. You know why!” Hermione understood his frustration, but she really wanted their children to be as close to two years apart as possible, and if she got pregnant in the next few months, the timing would be perfect to have their second child while she was on summer break from her law classes. Wanting to spend as much time as possible with Lyra, she hadn’t overloaded her schedule like she had at Hogwarts; in fact, she was only taking the minimum number of classes required per semester to still be considered a full time student. Because of this, it was going to take her almost four years to finish her degree instead of the usual three. She'd only completed three semesters, but Kingsley had promised her a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be waiting for her upon graduation, no matter how long it took. She had already agreed to apprentice under one of the younger, more reasonable Wizengamot members first, in order to help her better prepare to get to work revising (or flat out eliminating, when necessary) the plethora of archaic laws still on the books. “I don’t want Lyra to be an only child, but I don’t want to have toddlers running around for the next ten years, either! I want to be done having them by the time I finish school. If we have a baby next year, then we could possibly have three by the time I graduate.”  
  
Draco’s face softened. “I know, ‘Mi. I’m just tired of only being able to hold you when you’re furry. I miss you.”  
  
“Ditto.” Hermione smiled sadly at him. She wanted to point out that he could touch her while she was pregnant, but after glancing at her watch again, she just mumbled, “We have to go.”  
  
Draco walked over and picked up Lyra, who protested loudly until he made a show of putting all of the dragons in her diaper bag. Satisfied that her friends were joining them, she settled down in his arms as first he, and then Hermione passed through the floo to Healer Singh’s waiting room at St Mungo’s. Surprisingly, the Indian witch was actually waiting for them when they exited the fireplace. “There you are!” She beamed at them and held her arms out toward Lyra, who squirmed until Draco handed her over. For some reason, the little girl had always been fascinated by the healer. “Alright, I think I may be on to something!” Healer Singh announced eagerly.  
  
Hermione and Draco exchanged glances. In all the time they’d been seeing her, she’d never expressed so much excitement over a possible solution. She had contacted them, asking them to come in as soon as possible, shortly after Narcissa had seen her the previous afternoon. Draco’s mother had been suffering from depression ever since his father’s execution...probably even before that, and she’d been seeing Healer Singh for well over a year now. Hermione knew that the healer had recently taken a page from her muggle father's book, so to speak, and had started delving into Narcissa’s memories. She'd explained that she was experimenting with combining the spell normally used to extract memories for viewing in a pensieve with muggle hypnotic techniques in order to better help the older witch deal with, some of the horrible things she had experienced during both wars, mostly due to her dead husband's involvement with Voldemort.  
  
“What is it?” Draco asked warily. Some of the Healer’s previous attempts had been a little sketchy. One time, she’d had Hermione take polyjuice to transform into Narcissa, but not only had it not worked, Draco was mildly traumatized at the thought of having his wife look exactly like his mother. All in all, it really wasn’t worth the effort. Another time, the Healer had taken blood from Draco, Hermione, Lyra and Narcissa in order to develop a potion that was supposed to make Hermione genetically close enough for them to touch. Given the fact that Draco couldn’t touch her even after they’d performed blood rites in their wedding vows (not to mention the fact that he couldn’t touch Andromeda, Teddy, or Harry), neither of them had much hope of the potion succeeding. No one was terribly surprised when the potion containing Draco’s blood had boiled over rather violently when Hermione's was added.  
  
“I probably shouldn’t have worn white...” Hermione mumbled, looking down at her new sun dress, which was mostly white with little daisies embroidered all over.  
  
“No potions this time,” Healer Singh promised, crossing her finger over her heart and grinning. “I think I finally know what we're dealing with. I’m so stupid...I should have seen it right after you were married, that time your magic flared...” she said, directing the statement at Draco.  
  
Intrigued, Hermione said, “Maybe we should go into your office?” Another patient had entered the room to see one of Healer Singh's partners, and the middle aged witch was blatantly staring at them.  
  
“Yes...let's...” Healer Singh led them into the bright, airy room, and let Lyra down. The toddler wandered over to a basket of toys under the window, her dragons completely forgotten.  
  
“Okay, first...can I extract a memory from one of you?” the healer asked, motioning for them to sit on the loveseat. “It doesn’t matter which of you I take it from, really. I just want to view the moment when your magic flared up and burned your hands...” she nodded at each of them in turn.  
  
“Um...okay...” Draco muttered. Taking out his wand, he touched it to his temple and pulled out a long thin strand of silvery gray mist, which the healer collected in a small vial.  
  
“Alright, just give me a moment...” the healer practically skipped across the room to a small pensieve on a table in the corner. She poured out the memory and stuck her head in the ornate bowl. They waited for several minutes before she emerged, looking elated. “Oh Merlin...I really think I’ve got it!” She burst out, actually performing a happy little jig on the spot.  
  
“Well...tell us!” Hermione exclaimed impatiently, letting out a nervous laugh. Draco looked like he was going to pass out.  
  
“Remember how I told you back then that it seemed to be protective magic, but nothing I’d ever seen before?” Healer Singh asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Hermione nodded. “But what’s that got to do with anything? You said it was just his magic flaring because of the bonding spell.”  
  
“Oh, it was flaring because of the bonding spell...” Healer Singh nodded, looking amused. “But it wasn’t _Draco's_ magic that flared.”  
  
“What?” Draco still wasn’t talking, so Hermione leaned forward in her seat. “What was it, then?”  
  
“It was _Narcissa’s_ magic,” Healer Singh replied cheerfully, as if that explained everything.  
  
Hermione was getting a headache. Knowing that the other witch really must be onto something to be acting this excited, she took a deep, calming breath, trying to summon up a bit of patience. “Maybe you should explain from the beginning?”  
  
“I can do better than that. I can show you when it happened.” Healer Singh beckoned for them to come over to the pensieve.  
  
“When _what_ happened?” Draco growled, finally seeming to come out of his daze.  
  
“Let me show you, and then I’ll explain,” Healer Singh picked up a vial from the table and poured the memory it contained into the pensieve. “Draco, what we're about to see is the day that the healers finally managed to return you to your mother’s womb. You were about six months along by then, so she was in a great deal of pain. Among other things, her body had returned to normal while you were...gone, so they had to cast several stretching spells, just so you would fit...”  
  
“Good lord!” Hermione gasped, shuddering at the thought of suddenly being six months pregnant.  
  
Healer Singh wrinkled her nose and nodded. “Yeah, it was really rough. Because of the pain potions she was given before the procedure, this memory is rather fuzzy, but she _was_ awake for the transfer. In retrospect, that was a terrible decision on her healer's part...”  
  
Hermione glanced over at Lyra, who was still playing by the window. “Is this going to take long?”  
  
Healer Singh frowned thoughtfully, then walked over to the door, opened it and stuck her head into the waiting room. “Aurora, could you come watch Miss Lyra for a few minutes while her parents and I view a memory? It shouldn’t take long, but you know toddlers...”  
  
“Of course!” Her blonde assistant jumped up and ran into the room, smiling brightly at Lyra, who shot back a charming smile of her own before turning back to the basket of toys. “Can she have a biscuit? I have some lovely strawberry filled ones at my desk,” Aurora asked Hermione.  
  
“Sure,” Hermione smiled and nodded even though she knew the snack would probably ruin her daughter's appetite. She'd been trying to lighten up and let her daughter enjoy occasional treats that her own parents had always strictly forbidden.  
  
They waited until the young woman had carried Lyra and a couple of toys out to the waiting room. “Ready? This is probably going to be a little upsetting for you to see...” Healer Singh warned.  
  
“I’m ready,” Draco muttered, taking a deep breath. He stuck his head in the pensieve, and Healer Singh motioned for Hermione to join him.  
  
Hermione found herself sinking into a patient’s room at St. Mungo's. There were several blurry figures in green healer’s robes gathered around a pair of beds, which  took up most of the space. It seemed like one of the beds had been added as an afterthought because there was barely room to walk between them. Everything was slightly out of focus, but she recognized a much younger, healthier looking Bellatrix lying on the nearest bed. Her wrists were strapped to the bed's rails, but despite the restraints, there were two nurses still struggling to hold her down. A tall, black haired man, who Hermione assumed must be Rodolphus LeStrange was standing in the corner. Hermione couldn’t quite make out his face, but his posture made it clear that he was rather bored with the proceedings. “Can you just hurry up and get the brat out of her? I have places to be...” he growled, gesturing impatiently.  
  
“Right away, Sir.” Judging from the way one of the healers rushed to Bellatrix’s side, Rodolphus' sadistic ways must have been pretty well known already. The healer raised her wand, her hand shaking (or maybe it was just the distorting effect the pain potion was having on the memory), and began murmuring a long series of incantations.  
  
“Stop! Stop! No! He’s mine! You can’t take him! He’s mine!” Bellatrix was sobbing and thrashing violently. Hermione almost felt sorry for her. Almost.  
  
For the most part, the healers ignored her, the one performing the spell only taking a deep breath before continuing to chant. Suddenly, there was an almost blinding flash of white light. Bellatrix screamed, then went limp. The healer hesitated, glancing nervously at the other bed, then kept going. Moments later, there was another, more pain-filled scream, this time from the other bed.  
  
Narcissa sat up, swaying slightly, but glaring at her now unconscious sister with more hatred than Hermione had ever seen on anyone’s face. Not even Molly had looked as angry before she killed the same woman lying in front of her now. Her expression was unnerving enough that Hermione took a step back, jumping slightly when she bumped into Healer Singh, who had arrived in the memory without her noticing.  
  
“This is when it happened,” the older witch whispered as Narcissa began to speak.  
  
“He’s mine! You...you... **BITCH**!” her voice was shaky and weak, forcing Hermione to strain to make out her words. “Stay away from us!”  
   
One of the healers started trying to push her back down on the bed. “Lie down, Ma’am...we need you to lie down...the baby...”  
  
Narcissa growled and lunged at the nightstand beside her bed, grabbing her wand. “No...no...leave me alone...” she babbled, weakly jabbing the wand toward the healer. The other healers crept closer, intent on taking the wand from her. “No! It hurts. Please just leave us alone!” One of the healers stepped aside for a moment, and Hermione realized that Narcissa’s stomach was now grossly extended. A quick glance at Bellatrix confirmed that Draco had definitely been moved back where he belonged. “Stay away!” Her gaze skimmed over everyone in the room, settling on Bellatrix, who was starting to come around. “He's mine!” She yelled, covering her stomach protectively with her free hand. Her eyes were going wilder by the second, and Hermione was worried she might actually send herself into labor. Her voice became louder as the healers all converged on her bed, leaving Rudolphus to deal with his sobbing wife...not that he seemed inclined to do so. “Don't you dare touch me!” Narcissa screamed suddenly when one of the healers tried to touch her stomach. There was a flash of purple light and the healer was thrown back across the room. “No! Get back!” Narcissa bellowed, wrapping her arms protectively around her stomach. Her skin was now glowing an eerie purple.  
  
“Bloody hell. She’s going to hurt herself, or the kid...” One of the younger healers muttered.  
  
"I will never hurt him! I won't let anything hurt him!" Narcissa sobbed brokenly. She looked around accusingly and hissed, "All people ever do is cause pain! Don't touch him!" The glow around her pulsed brightly with each word.  
  
“We need to finish...he’s not even fully re-implanted yet.” An older man, with an air of authority, murmured, shaking his head. Raising his wand, he gestured at the frantic witch and murmured, “ _Somnus_!” Narcissa's eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed against the pillows, unconscious. The memory quickly faded out, and Hermione found herself standing in Healer Singh’s office.  
  
Healer Singh was grinning excitedly. “Don’t you see?”  
  
Draco still looked a bit disoriented. “So...Mum went a little nutters?”  
  
Hermione glanced thoughtfully at the pensieve, reviewing in her head what she had seen. Her heart began to race. “You only ever checked for dark magic...curses and hexes, right?” She asked Healer Singh.  
  
“Exactly,” the other witch grinned and nodded vigorously.  
  
“The glow around Narcissa...it was purple,” Hermione observed.  
  
“Looked familiar, huh?” Healer Singh’s grin grew.  
  
Draco rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. Hermione could certainly sympathize. “Wait...you’re not saying...all of this is because of my _mum_?!” His voice was becoming higher with every word, until he was almost screeching.  
  
“Well, she didn’t mean to," Healer Singh replied gently. "She was quite heavily drugged at the time. She doesn't even consciously remember the transfer, I had to seek the memory out deliberately, which is why I hadn't figured this out before now. But we do know that a mother’s instinctual magic, especially when used to protect their child, can be remarkably strong. Look at what Lily Potter did for Harry...” Healer Singh said. She had spoken to Harry once, briefly, after he had reminded Hermione that Voldemort had been hurt by his touch when he was younger. If only they'd realized back then that they were on the right track.  
  
“So...he’s just under some sort of instinctive protective spell?” Hermione frowned disbelievingly. “Then why does it hurt _him_ , rather than the person trying to touch him?”  
  
"Mum wouldn't hurt me," Draco muttered, looking more bewildered than ever. Hermione desperately wanted to give him a hug.  
  
“She wouldn't," Healer Singh agreed. "Not intentionally. But think about everything she said near the end, when her magic was flaring. 'I will never hurt him,' for one thing. Does her touch hurt you?"  
  
"No," Draco shook his head. "She's always been the only one who didn't. Until Lyra."  
  
"Right, and 'I won't let anything hurt him,'" Healer Singh continued. "You don't feel much pain from stimuli that normally _should_ be painful, right?" Obviously, she already knew the answer to that, but Hermione saw where she was going with this, so she said nothing.  
  
"Right..." Draco nodded. He was beginning to look a lot less confused.  
  
"'All people ever do is cause pain. Don't touch him,'" the healer repeated softly. "Get it? Her magic took everything she was saying at that point as some sort of incantation.” She shrugged slightly. “It wasn't completely effective. Technically, no one but your mother should be able to touch you. I think the reason why you can touch Lyra is because a parent and child are as genetically similar as two people can be, except for full siblings, and of course identical twins. I just don't understand why your father couldn't touch you..."  
  
"He only ever...he never really tried to touch me unless I was being p-punished," Draco whispered, looking at his feet. "He usually used his cane."  
  
It wasn't the first time either of them had heard this, so Hermione and Healer Singh just exchanged angry looks before the latter continued. "That’s also why you could touch Hermione while she was pregnant...part of you was growing inside her, and it was enough for her to get past the spell. The blood exchange used in your bonding ritual didn't have any effect because it's completely symbolic. While I was researching, I found out that it is actually just a really old spell that was created to register the wife's magical signature with the wards on all of the husband's properties.”  
  
"Why can't they just perform a normal spell that says that instead of making people drink blood?" Hermione grumbled. "That's just...unsanitary!"  
  
Healer Singh just shrugged, looking slightly amused. "Because ancient wizards were gross, and a little strange?"  
  
“How do we get rid of it?” Draco demanded suddenly, ignoring their odd tangent.  
  
“I’ve contacted an expert in charms and enchantments. I’m confident that he should be able to remove it with little difficulty. I’d try to do it myself, but that’s not really my field of expertise,” Healer Singh admitted sheepishly.  
  
“You told someone about me?” Draco asked, looking a bit upset. “You know I don’t want people knowing!”  
  
“Draco!” Hermione scolded quietly. “Don’t you think it’s worth it if this person can finally fix this?” She touched the back of his hand lightly, until he pulled away, just to prove her point.  
  
“He’s not a stranger,” Healer Singh spoke up. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Just wait until you see who it is?”  
  
Hermione was getting used to the other witch's tendency to be cryptic, but this was getting ridiculous.  
  
“Fine,” Draco mumbled, rolling his eyes. “So, when can this guy see me?”  
  
Just then, there was a light tap at the door.  
  
“I’m guessing right now,” Healer Singh murmured, walking over and opening the door.  
  
Aurora was standing there with Lyra resting on her hip. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the Professor is here, and you asked me to let you know when he arrived.”  
  
Professor? Hermione bit back a smile, hoping she was right about the identity of the healer’s mysterious expert.  
  
“Thank you, send him right in,” Healer Singh said. “Are you alright with Miss Lyra for a few more minutes?”  
  
“Of course!” Aurora nodded cheerfully. “We’ve been having a blast with parchment airplanes...haven't we Lyra?”  
  
"Boom!" Lyra shouted, mimicking an explosion with her hands, which made Hermione suddenly doubt the wisdom of leaving her daughter with the other witch.  
  
“Excellent!” Healer Singh clapped her hands a few times, apparently having no such qualms.  
  
Aurora walked away, leaving Hermione still waffling over whether she should object. Moments later her doubts were forgotten as a very familiar figure appeared in the doorway.  
  
“Professor Flitwick?!” Hermione and Draco both exclaimed. Draco was obviously more surprised than his wife, which wasn't surprising, considering he seemed to be more than a little stunned by his healer's revelation.  
  
“Hello, Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy...” the tiny professor greeted them warmly.  
  
“Hello, Professor. But we’re both Malfoy now,” Hermione corrected him with a smile.  
  
“Oh, yes, I apologize. Force of habit,” he said sheepishly. “I was just getting acquainted with your daughter. She's a lovely child.”  
  
“Yeah, we kind of like her,” Draco drawled, smirking slightly.  
  
“Behave.” Hermione elbowed him in the side, then cringed when he winced.  
  
Professor Flitwick just chuckled. “So, Jyoti here has explained to me a bit about your...problem,” he said, growing more serious. Looking up at Healer Singh, he asked, “Have you made any progress on your theory?”  
  
Healer Singh nodded. “I’m extremely confident that the problem is caused by an accidental enchantment cast by Draco's mother while he was still in utero. Would you like to view the incident?” She gestured at the pensieve.  
  
“Yes, I think that would help me develop a more effective counter charm...” the little man walked over to the table and climbed up on a chair before unceremoniously sticking his head into the pensieve. When he emerged a few minutes later, he was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I daresay you’re right,” he murmured, nodding at the healer.  
  
“Can you undo it?” Draco asked hopefully. The look on his face almost made Hermione want to cry. If this didn’t work, she might just have to strangle Healer Singh for allowing him to get his hopes so high.  
  
“I believe so,” Flitwick nodded. Jumping down from the chair, he gestured for Draco to have a seat. Once he’d obeyed, the Charms Professor raised his wand and closed his eyes in concentration. He didn’t say anything, but his lips were moving slightly, and he waved his wand around in a long series of elaborate motions. After about a minute, he opened his eyes, lowered his wand and reached for Draco’s hand. Stopping himself at the last second, he turned to Hermione, and said, “Actually, I think you should have the honors...”  
  
Hermione sucked in a breath. “That’s it? You’re done? No flashing lights or...or explosions?”  
  
“Unfortunately, your friend Mister Finnegan chose _not_ to pursue a career in Charms, so you’re stuck with me and my unflashy ways,” Flitwick joked. “That’s it, I’m afraid.”  
  
Hermione chuckled ruefully, then looked at Draco, who was studying his hands and looking a little let down. “But...you did remove it?”  
  
“Yes, I did!” Flitwick giggled. “Touch him already! Have at it!”  
  
“Within reason,” Healer Singh warned teasingly. “No funny business in my office.”  
  
Hermione smirked at her, then took another deep breath and approached Draco. “Ready?” She asked him nervously.  
  
“Stop stalling,” he muttered, grabbing her hand. For a moment, it seemed like time froze. Hermione stared at him anxiously as more and more time passed without any reaction from him. Finally, he let out a choked sob.  
  
“Oh god...” Devastated, Hermione tried to jerk her hand away, but Draco used his grip on her hand to pull her onto his lap before wrapping his arms around her waist. He proceeded to bury his face against her neck, sobbing uncontrollably. Hermione wriggled, but he refused let go, tightening his hold on her. It finally clicked. “Wait...it worked?!” Hermione noticed she was crying, too, but she didn’t care. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she started kissing him all over his face. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you...” she mumbled mindlessly. Realizing she actually did owe her thanks to the other two people in the room, she turned to them, and wiped her eyes. “Thank you. We can never, ever repay you for this,” she said gratefully.  
  
“Just name your first son after me,” Flitwick said, but winked when Hermione tried to hide a grimace. “I'm kidding! Please don’t. Filius is a terrible name. Though, if you’re ever needing suggestions, I’ve always thought 'Hugo' was nice...”  
  
Hermione laughed. “Hugo it is, then.” Turning to Healer Singh, she said, “And how can we thank _you_?”  
  
“Oh, you already have. I’ve been waiting ages to see this day...” the other witch murmured, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m so, so happy for you both!”  
  
Just then, there was another soft knock at the door, and Aurora stuck her head inside with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but I think Miss Lyra is getting hungry, and I didn’t want her to fill up on biscuits.” She gestured at Lyra, who was standing beside her, pouting dramatically.  
  
Hermione laughed. “We should be getting home. We have to give Narcissa the good news, anyway.” She nudged Draco. He wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve and reluctantly let her stand up, but kept a firm grip on her hand.  
  
“Thank you,” he said, offering his hand to Flitwick.  
  
“My pleasure,” the other wizard said, smiling as he accepted it. Draco held on for a lot longer than necessary, but everyone just smiled.  
  
Turning to Healer Singh, he smiled, and said, “I’ll be making a huge donation to St. Mungo’s. Huge.”  
  
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she said, grinning tearfully at him, then hugging him impulsively. Like the handshake, the embrace went on a little longer than was probably appropriate, but Hermione just waited patiently.  
  
“You’re going to be a hugger now, aren’t you?” She joked when Draco finally let go.  
  
“Oh, you’d better believe it,” he laughed, kissing her cheek and squeezing her hand.  
  
“It might be best to leave out the details when you tell your mother...” Healer Singh suggested softly. “After I saw the memory, I made sure she still doesn't remember what happened. She really didn’t mean to...”  
  
“Of course,” Draco agreed. “I’ll tell her Aunt Bella did something. It’s not a total lie.”  
  
“Are you ready to go home and see Grandma?” Hermione asked Lyra cheerfully.  
  
“Biscuit!” Lyra exclaimed, pouting, but reaching out to be carried.  
  
“No biscuit. Lunch,” Draco said, scooping her up in his free arm.  
  
“Poop!” Lyra grumbled, making everyone laugh.  
  
“Language, young lady,” Hermione scolded, trying not to smile. “If your nappy doesn’t need changing, you’re going in the corner when you get home.”  
  
Draco sniffed the little girl and made a face. “I think she’s off the hook. Let’s take her to grandma...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I think I did alright with having Healer Singh explain it (her first name is Jyoti, btw), but just in case there are questions (and I know this whole thing is really bullsh**, just bear with me?)...Because Narcissa was in an extremely heightened emotional state, and her magic flared while she was rambling that nonsense, she accidentally cast a "spell" without anyone present even realizing it. Everything she said while she was glowing became a result of the enchantment. So, Draco ended up with a not-so-protective enchantment kind of embedded in his skin. It wasn't an actual known spell, more like the sort of "wild magic" Harry always casts when he's upset, so no one knew to look for it. Healer Singh had thought to scan Draco for curses and jinxes because of his painful reaction to touch, but the "spell" didn't show up then, because Narcissa's intentions weren't dark. Luckily, because it was all purely accidental, it wasn't so intense that he couldn't force himself to touch Hermione for a few seconds at a time, but when they had sex, it was zapping him in a more sensitive area, and for much longer, thus all the screaming. (For the record, all of his mental issues were just the result of being raised by a physically and emotionally abusive a$$hole who let other, murderous a$$holes live in their house for a while). 
> 
> As for Narcissa being able to do something like this and have it stay in place for so long...I've always imagined her as being very powerful (she IS a Black), but sort of repressed. I suspect Narcissa's marriage was more of an arranged thing rather than a romance (for this story, that is definitely the case), so I think she tended to bottle up her real feelings (at least while Lucius was alive). All of her pent up pain and rage over Bellatrix having stolen her baby for months, and Lucius doing nothing to stop her, just kind of exploded and went into powering the spell. Plus, the pain potions had completely taken away whatever conscious inhibitions she had that might have prevented this. I also figured that maybe Harry was always ridiculously "good" at accidental magic because the tendency ran in the family somewhat. And for the sake of this story, Lucius was a lot more abusive than he came across in the books/movies. 
> 
> I went with calling Flitwick in to undo it because I figured that "accidental, out-of-control protective magic" could probably fall under either Charms or DADA (it being a twisted sort of defensive spell)...but I didn't feel like inventing a new DADA teacher, and I knew Healer Singh would respect that Draco would probably only want to work with someone he was already familiar with. After all, that's a big part of why Healer Sing stepped in, outside of her usual specialty, to deliver Lyra. 
> 
> One last thing...I originally thought that there were only going to be 24 chapters, but then my muse came up with a fabulous (and, in hindsight, rather obvious) way to end the whole thing. So, it ended up being 25 chapters...and it is finished! I'll be posting the last two chapters over the next few days.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter. Smut warning! (Like no one saw it coming after the last chapter). ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written probably a dozen or so sex scenes, and I'm still kind of uncomfortable with them, so they usually end up sort of awkward and goofy like this one... Sadly, I think this might be one of my better ones. lol 
> 
> Oh, and obviously I don't own Silence of the Lambs any more than I do Harry Potter...

  
They quickly said goodbye, and headed for the fireplace in the waiting room. Hermione started to pull her hand free, but Draco tightened his grip. “Let’s apparate,” he suggested with a mischievous grin. “I don't want to let go of you, yet. And I think Mum’s probably in the back yard. She said something about harvesting herbs this morning. We can surprise her.”  
  
Hermione smirked at him knowingly. “We’ll give her a heart attack.”  
  
Draco smirked back. “I think she’ll forgive us,” he pointed out. “Hold on, girls...” he hugged Lyra to his chest, and spun on the spot. Hermione quickly closed her eyes; she'd never been a big fan of side-along apparation. When she opened them, Narcissa was kneeling in front of them in front of a large patch of spearmint.  
  
“Hey, Mum,” Draco called out cheerfully. “We’re back.”  
  
Narcissa didn't bother to look at him. She just held up one hand, gesturing for them to wait while she struggled to pull a sprig of leaves from the plant in front of her. When it finally came loose, she dropped it in a basket on the ground beside her, and stood up, brushing off the front of her skirt. “How did it go?” she asked, idly examining her fingernails as she turned to face them.  
  
“How do you think it went?” Draco asked, pulling Hermione’s hand forward with his own.  
  
“How am I supposed to...Oh!” Narcissa froze in mid-sentence, staring at their joined hands. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” She clapped both hands to her cheeks, her eyes growing bigger by the second.  
  
“Mum?” Draco asked, sounding a bit worried. She didn't reply, and he took a step toward her. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I think you broke her,” Hermione mumbled out of the corner of her mouth, just before her mother-in-law fainted dead away.  
  
“Mum!” Draco quickly handed Lyra to Hermione, and knelt on the lawn beside Narcissa. “Mum, wake up!”  
  
“Forget you’re a wizard, Dray?” Hermione asked teasingly. Pulling out her wand, she quickly cast ‘ _Rennervate_ ’ on the other woman.  
  
Draco smacked himself on the forehead as his mother groaned softly. “Mum, are you alright?” he asked when her eyes fluttered open.  
  
Looking confused and disoriented, Narcissa rubbed her forehead. “I...what happened?” Suddenly, she turned to look at Hermione and Lyra, then back at Draco. “Wait...you were...did I imagine it, or were you really holding hands?” She asked breathlessly.  
  
Draco helped her to her feet, then walked back over to Hermione, and put his arm around her, smiling widely. “Healer Singh finally found a cure!”  
  
Narcissa choked back a sob and flung herself at them, hugging them both while bouncing up and down in the most undignified manner imaginable. “Oh thank Merlin! I’m going to buy a new wing for St Mungo's in that woman's honor!”  
  
“That’s pretty much what _he_ said,” Hermione informed her cheerfully, jabbing her thumb in Draco's general direction. “You might want to chip in a little something for Hogwarts, too.”  
  
Narcissa stopped bouncing, and shot her a questioning look. “Hogwarts?”  
  
Draco shook his head at Hermione over his mother’s shoulder. Realizing that Narcissa might eventual figure out what had really happened if they told her that it was Flitwick who had fixed Draco’s problem, Hermione hummed quietly, scrambling for a way to cover her slip. “Oh, Healer Singh consulted one of the professors while she was working out the cure,” she mumbled, wincing internally at her own pathetic effort.  
  
“Ah, I see.” Normally, Narcissa was a lot more inquisitive, and probably would have wanted a thorough explanation of what the healer had done; but fortunately, she seemed to be so excited that she didn’t question Hermione's vague explanation. “Oh, I’m so very, very happy! For both of you!” She hugged them again, but thankfully refrained from bouncing. When she finally released them, she had a knowing smirk. “Would you like me to watch Lyra for a while?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows slightly.  
  
“Yes!” Hermione blurted eagerly, practically shoving her daughter into her grandmother's waiting arms.  
  
Draco grabbed her hand again, and started dragging her toward the house. “If you could just keep an eye on her for a day or three, that would be great! Thanks Mum!” He called back over his shoulder.  
  
Narcissa’s laughter followed them into the kitchen. Melaina, who was mixing something green and slimy in a huge ceramic bowl, looked up when they burst through the door. Like Narcissa, her gaze immediately zeroed in on their joined hands. “I see,” she muttered. “Guess you’ll be wanting food sent up in an hour or so?” She asked the question in her usual terse manner, but Hermione could see that she was struggling not to smile.  
  
“You’re the best, Melaina,” Draco beamed at her. Glancing at the bowl, he said, "Uh...not that." He started to pull Hermione toward the hallway, then stopped and let go of her hand. Walking over to the housekeeper, he suddenly enveloped her in a warm hug. “Thank you!”  
  
Melaina went completely rigid. “That’s more than enough of that...” she grumbled, poking him in the side with handle of her spoon. When Draco released her, she was blushing.  
  
Shaking her head in amusement, Hermione grabbed Draco’s hand again, and took over leading the way to their bedroom. “You really weren’t kidding about the hugging thing, were you? You do realize you’ve probably traumatized her for life?”  
  
“She’ll get over it,” he replied. His voice was a bit muffled due to the fact that he was trying to kiss her neck as they walked. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and tugged on her hand. “Why are we walking?”  
  
Hermione frowned. Then it was her turn to smack herself on the forehead. Picturing their bedroom, she turned on her heel and apparated them next to their bed. She was strongly tempted to try to transport them directly onto the bed itself, but that sort of thing was risky, and the few brain cells not currently focused on getting her husband naked as soon as possible helpfully pointed out that splinching would probably cause a highly unpleasant, and possibly lengthy delay. “Finally!” she blurted, turning to face Draco. “For the record though, you’re the one who started walking...”  
  
He cut her off with a hard, almost bruising kiss. Hermione could feel him trembling as she ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders. At first, she thought it was a symptom of pent up sexual energy...it had been over a year, after all. Then, she tasted salt, and realized he was crying. “Hey, what is it?”  
  
“‘M fine...” he mumbled, taking her lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently. “Just never thought this would happen again...” He released her just long enough to sit on the edge of the bed and pull her to stand between his knees, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. “I love you so much,” he mumbled, pressing his face against her stomach.  
  
“I love you too.” They stayed that way for several minutes until Hermione bent over to kiss the top of his head, then wriggled out of his grasp.  
  
Draco’s head shot up. “Where are you going?” he asked worriedly.  
  
“Shhh...” Hermione held a finger to her lips, then trailed it down to the top button of her dress. Smiling in what she hoped was a seductive manner (she was a little afraid that she looked a bit constipated), she began to slowly unbutton the row of tiny pearl buttons down the front of the fitted garment. She tried to maintain eye contact, but the buttons were slippery and frustrating, and she was forced lower her gaze so she could see what she was doing, instead. When she’d finally undone enough to be able to slip out of the dress, she wiggled her hips and let it fall to the floor before finally looking up again. What she saw made her heart rate accelerate.  
  
Draco was staring at her intently, his lips slightly parted. He was breathing hard, and his normally silvery gray eyes had gone almost completely black with desire. When their eyes met, he growled, “Come here,” holding his hand out in a manner that made it clear he wasn’t asking.  
  
“You’re overdressed,” she pointed out, pursing her lips.  
  
“So, do something about it,” he challenged. “Come _here_ ,” he repeated, patting the bed beside him.  
  
Hermione smirked slightly. Stepping toward him, she straddled his legs instead, wrapping her arms around his neck, and rolling her pelvis against his groin. “Shit!” He gasped, grabbing her hips firmly in his hands, and pulling her even closer against him. “Too many clothes...”  
  
“That’s what I just said,” she reminded him teasingly.  
  
Narrowing his eyes, he shot her a jokingly dirty look, then waved his hand. “ _Divesto_!”  
  
"Ah!" Hermione gasped as her suddenly bare nipples suddenly came into contact with his equally naked chest, setting her nervous system on fire. And that didn't even take into consideration what was happening further south. “Oh _god_...” she groaned deeply as the head of his cock brushed against her clit.  
  
“You can just call me Draco,” he mumbled, tilting his head so he could suckle the spot behind her ear that always drove her crazy.  
  
Hermione smirked. “Ha, ha...ah!” Not wasting any time, he had lifted her slightly, tilted her hips just right and brought her down as he thrust upwards, burying himself inside her. “Yesssss!” Hermione hissed, resting her forehead on his shoulder while she adjusted to the once familiar feeling. She felt her inner muscles stretching almost painfully before finally relaxing around him. "Oh my god...I missed this," she whispered, nibbling on his earlobe.  
  
“Fuck!” Draco gasped. He tightened his grip on her waist, and the world pivoted wildly as he rolled them over and to the side, so he ended up on top of her in the middle of the bed, bracing himself on his arms to keep some of his weight off her. “You feel too good, I can’t wait anymore...” he muttered apologetically before he began thrusting fast and deep, forcing the air from her lungs.  
  
Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to his forearms, perfectly happy to let him go at his own pace. It had been far too long, and she hadn’t really expected the first time to be slow and sweet, anyway. In fact, she didn’t particularly want slow and sweet, either. “Harder!” she muttered, straining her neck upwards so she could nip at his earlobe again.  
  
Draco grunted, and dropped down to rest on his elbows, bringing more of his skin in contact with hers as he began moving his hips even more vigorously. “You feel _so_ good, ‘Mi. I just want to take your skin and...I dunno...roll in it.”  
  
Hermione froze, then burst into startled laughter. “What the hell did you just say?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Draco stopped moving, an adorably confused frown creasing his forehead. “I have no bloody idea,” he admitted, chuckling sheepishly. “Can we please pretend that didn’t happen?”  
  
“Okay, but I’m sleeping with one eye open from now on, Mr. Gumb,” Hermione giggled.  
  
“Huh?” He asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion.  
  
“James Gumb. Buffalo Bill?” He just looked at her blankly. “We just watched ‘Silence of the Lambs’ with Harry a few weeks ago!” She huffed. “‘It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again...’ Ring any bells?”  
  
He thought for a moment, then rolled his eyes. “I never did figure out that bloke's name. I was too distracted by you in that tight jumper you were wearing,” he said, grinning. He started slowly rocking his pelvis again after that, and Hermione quickly lost interest in the conversation...or _any_ conversation. Sensing that the mood had changed, and some of the initial urgency was gone, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him even closer, capturing his lips as she pulled her knees closer to her chest to allow him to penetrate more deeply. Unlike before, he kept his pace slow and steady, barely pulling out of her each time, so their bodies remained pressed tightly against each other with every thrust.  
  
Hermione completely lost track of how long they continued like this, slowly exploring each others mouths and gently rocking together, before Draco’s movements gradually became less controlled. He let out a soft grunt that she recognized as one of the early signals that he would come soon. She could feel her own release building deep in her abdomen, but she wasn’t quite there yet, so she worked her hand between them and reached down to rub her clit.  
  
“Mmm...let me do that...” Draco murmured, lifting off her just enough to bat her hand away and replace it with his own. He began rubbing her in small circles with his thumb in just the right way to make her toes curl. “Like that?” He asked, watching her face closely.  
  
“Perfect,” she whispered, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as the sensation started to overwhelm her.  
  
He started rubbing a little bit faster, and his hips began to jerk even more erratically. “I’m gonna come soon...” he moaned.  
  
Hermione whimpered, shifting the angle of her hips until he sank even deeper. “Oh god...me too,” she groaned as the pressure that had built up inside her suddenly let go. “Fuck, yes...I’m coming!” She moaned loudly and grabbed his arse, accidentally digging her nails into his flesh as every muscle in her body spasmed simultaneously.  
  
"Ow!" Draco grunted and slammed his pelvis against her, still stimulating her clit as she tightened around him. She could feel him twitching sporadically inside her when she finally started to come back down, and knew that he had finished along with her. “Wow...” he croaked, collapsing slightly to her left so he wouldn’t completely crush her. “So...scratching hurts now, but that was still better than I remembered,” he said a few minutes later, sounding slightly awed.  
  
"Sorry, I got carried away," Hermine chuckled breathlessly. “It probably helped that I’m not hugely pregnant anymore...” she pointed out, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face, then caressing his back and shoulders.  
  
“Oh yeah,” he snorted. They lapsed into silence for a few more minutes. “Do you still want to be?”  
  
“What?” Hermione froze, her hand midway up his back.  
  
“Do you still want to try for another baby?” he whispered.  
  
“I thought you didn’t want to?” She asked, pushing on his shoulders so she could see his face.  
  
He rolled off her, both of them moaning as he slipped out of her. “I didn’t want to have to stop looking for a solution to my problem. And I didn’t want to do that ‘in vito’ thing you were talking about. I didn't know if I could go through being able to touch you for months, and then not be able to again. It was too hard the first time,” he explained. “But now there’s no reason to wait. Like you said earlier, the timing would be almost perfect, assuming it takes us a few months to conceive.” He propped himself up on his elbow, gazing down at her intently. “I really do want another baby, ‘Mi. I hated being an only child. C’mon, what do you say?”  
  
Hermione smiled. “I was the one trying to talk you into it earlier. What do you think?”  
  
Draco beamed at her. Ducking his head, he kissed her on the nose, and whispered. “I think this is the best day ever. Things couldn’t be more perfect...”  
  
Hermione hummed. “Well, there is _one_ other thing I’d like...” she began hesitantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/21/15 - I just made a small change to point out that in addition to not being hurt by human contact, he DOES feel "normal" pain now, since that was a bit of a problem before, too. 
> 
> I'll be posting the final chapter soon, I just need to do a final edit.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the beginning...sort of. ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this story almost a year ago, and I honestly thought I was never going to actually finish it, but here it is!!! I've been muttering to my BFF that I'd be glad when I was completely done with it, but now I'm kind of sad. I'm not going to miss it too much though, because my muse is insisting that I have to tell Harry and Luna's story, which is going to include a few events from Hermione and Draco's life together that I left out of this one just because it was getting WAY. TOO. LONG. The title's going to have something to do with "Moonlight" (I haven't really decided yet) and I'll post it as part of a series with this one so it will be easy to find if anyone is interested. 
> 
> I've had several people comment on this story almost from the very beginning, and I just want to thank you all for your encouragement. Like I said, at one point I was afraid I would never finish it, and I don't think I would have without so much support. I really hope you like the ending...it just seemed appropriate.

_August 5, 2000_

“Why am I nervous?” Hermione asked, meeting Ginny’s amused brown eyes in the mirror as the other witch carefully styled her hair. “It’s not like we haven’t already done this...”

"Because pretty much every witch and wizard you know is out there?” Ginny asked, winking as she added another hairpin to the elaborate updo she was creating.

“That might be it...” Hermione chuckled. “I wonder how Draco’s doing?”

“The last time I talked to Luna, she said that he is pacing a hole in the floor of his studio. She and Harry are trying to calm him down.” Ginny giggled. “Why did you two invite so many people when he’s so terrified of public speaking? I thought you were only going to have a small gathering?”

“I thought so too, but then Narcissa got involved. Since we’re not being tortured by his aunt’s stupid spell anymore, we decided this was a good new way to make ourselves miserable,” Hermione replied, flinching inwardly at the lie she and Draco had told their friends to keep Narcissa from finding out the real cause of Draco’s problem. Neither of them liked lying, but it seemed like a small price to pay to save Narcissa from the guilt she would feel if she ever learned the truth.

“Well, it seems to be working,” Ginny muttered. “You need to sit still!” She scolded when Hermione shifted in her seat for approximately the twentieth time. “I’m almost done.”

“Sorry, Mum,” Hermione joked, then sighed. The one thing standing the way of her being completely, utterly happy since Flitwick had removed Narcissa’s spell was the fact that she still had no idea what had happened to her parents. The wizard they had hired to investigate their disappearance had found no evidence whatsoever that they’d been located by Death Eaters. Unfortunately, he couldn’t figure out where they had gone when they had left Adelaide a few months after Hermione sent them there, either. They’d simply closed up their new practice, packed their belongs and moved away, leaving no forwarding information. He’d tried tracking spells, but it had been too long since they’d left their last known location, and they were either outside the spells’ range, or... Hermione didn’t want to dwell on the ‘or.’

“Hey, you’ll find them,” Ginny said firmly, catching her eye in the mirror again. Smiling, she said, “And, I’m done!”

Hermione shifted her gaze back to her reflection and gasped. Ginny had tamed her curls into smooth ringlets, which dangled from an elegant twist at the back of her head. A few loose curls framed her face, and the style really emphasized her long, slender neck. “Oh, it’s perfect! Thank you!” she gushed, running her hand down the side of her head without actually touching her hair.

“Oh, you can touch it. It’s not going anywhere,” Ginny told her. “In fact, you might want to ask Harry for the unsticking charm he used on Missus Black’s painting...” Hermione froze, staring at her friend with one eyebrow raised. “I’m kidding. I already got it from him.” Ginny winked. “You should see your face, though!”

“I do see it.” Hermione pointed at the mirror. “You did a very nice job on the makeup, too. You’re amazing. You and Narcissa should open a salon together.”

“Did I hear my name?” Narcissa asked, sticking her head in the bathroom door, then stepping inside with Lyra in her arms. “Oh, you look absolutely lovely. Draco’s going to trip over his tongue. Again.” She emphasized the last word, chuckling.

“He’d better not show up as a chihuahua,” Hermione snickered.

“He didn’t really...” Ginny looked back and forth between them, her eyes wide.

“Oh, yes he did. He was playing with Dunkin in the back yard when Hermione walked outside in that muggle bikini she bought last week. It was really quite amusing,” Narcissa said, shaking her head slightly.

Ginny burst out laughing. “I have to go tell, like...literally everyone I know...” she announced, grinning wickedly and rubbing her hands together like a B movie villain, which Hermione thought was ironic since she had no idea such a thing existed.

“You can’t. He’s not registered,” Hermione reminded her before she reached the door. “We’re not registered.”

“Party pooper.” Ginny pouted. “Can I at least tell Dean?” She asked hopefully. “You have to let me tell him. We promised to have no secrets between us.” The redhead had run into her old school flame at a Harpies game a few months before, and the two were now closer than they’d ever been at Hogwarts.

“If you swear him to secrecy,” Hermione conceded. Turning to her mother-in-law and daughter, she held out her hands to the latter, who happily moved into her arms. “You look very nice, Leelee,” she said, using the ridiculous nickname Draco had given her, which had unfortunately stuck. Lyra’s hair was arranged in two perfect pigtails, and she was dressed in a sage green dress that matched the sleeveless dress robes Ginny and Luna were wearing. “You’re a miracle worker, Narcissa,” she said, smiling warmly at the older witch. “Not just her hair...I mean...pulling all of this together in such a short time.” She may have gone overboard on the guest list, but other than that, Narcissa had arranged everything exactly to Hermione and Draco’s preference.

“I may have been planning it a bit longer than you realize...” Narcissa said, smiling guiltily. “In my head, that is.”

“Let me guess...since August 3, 1998?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

“Give or take a few days. I’m sorry we couldn’t do it on your anniversary,” Narcissa sighed.

“This is close enough. And today is an anniversary of sorts, too.” Hermione glanced meaningfully at Lyra, trying not to shudder at the memory of the little girl’s conception. Shifting the toddler to her left hip, she gave Narcissa a one armed hug, and asked, “So...is it time?”

“It’s time,” Narcissa smiled, pulling a handkerchief literally out of nowhere, and dabbing at her eyes as they filled with tears. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Hermione nodded. “Are you ready?” She asked Lyra.

“Weddy! Wets go!” the toddler exclaimed cheerfully, raising her hand in the air in a commanding, ‘Onward!’ sort of gesture.

“Okay, bossy,” Ginny laughed. “You’re going first, so you need to come with me.” She grabbed a beribboned basket of flower petals from a nearby table, then took Lyra from Hermione. “See ya in a few. And no crying...I didn’t use the same sticking spell on your makeup,” she ordered, even though she was now teary eyed, also.

“Right...” Hermione said, blinking rapidly and fanning her eyes with her hands in a futile attempt to fight back her own tears. “See ya in a few.”

Ginny took Lyra outside, with Narcissa right behind them, leaving Hermione alone for the first time all day. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was sobbing, but otherwise looked remarkably elegant. She’d gone with a simple muggle gown made of cream colored silk with narrow spaghetti straps and tiny pearls covering the bodice. She anxiously smoothed down the skirt, jumping slightly when there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” she called shakily.

A second later Arthur stepped inside. “Oh, Hermione. You look absolutely lovely. Are you ready, sweetheart?” he asked, smiling fondly at her.

Hermione snorted, “Everyone keeps asking me that. Like I’m going to bolt. It’s little late for that...”

“Just a bit.” Arthur grinned, and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

“Oh, we definitely shall.” Hermione giggled. Sticking her arm through his, she let him lead her through the house to the smoking room. They paused inside the back door, and Arthur nodded to Charlie, who was standing outside. Charlie nodded in acknowledgement, then turned toward the gazebo and raised his hand over his head. Hermione swallowed nervously as Wagner’s traditional bridal march rang out over the crowded backyard, and everyone rose to their feet. Hermione blinked. She hadn’t seen this many people since the ceremony where Harry had received his Order of Merlin. In fact, it almost seemed to be the same crowd. “We didn’t invite all of these people,” she muttered through her teeth, plastering a huge smile on her face.

“You probably shouldn’t have told Narcissa it was alright to invite ‘everyone,’ then,” Arthur whispered back, patting her on the arm. “On three...one...two...three,” he chanted softly, giving her a not so gentle tug and pulling her outside right on cue as the music swelled.

“Remind me to kill her later,” Hermione murmured, still smiling and trying not to stumble in her dress shoes on the thick grass.

“I suspect you’ll be busy later, dear,” Arthur chuckled, tightening his grip on her arm to help her stay upright.

Just then, they reached a slight curve in the aisle, the point in the long walk where the gazebo came into view at the other end. Hermione’s smile instantly became genuine when she spotted Draco waiting for her with Harry and Ron beside him. He looked extremely nervous, and as she watched, Harry leaned over and whispered something in the blond’s ear, patting him on the shoulder, Draco looked up and stared at Hermione as a dazzling smile spread across his face.

Arthur had to hold her back slightly to stay in time with the music as they completed the march to the gazebo. Draco stepped forward and shook Arthur’s hand before the older wizard ceremoniously transferred Hermione from his own arm to the blond’s. “She’s all yours, son,” he murmured.

"Thanks, Arthur,” Hermione whispered before focusing on her husband. “Hi.” He looked amazing in dove gray dress robes, which were open to his waist, revealing a matching Muggle suit underneath. The only splashes of color he wore were a sage green tie and a matching handkerchief tucked in the pocket of the suit. He and Narcissa had searched through several muggle stores until they found the perfect suit to go with the more formal robes. Hermione had questioned the effort, until he told her he was trying to add some of her heritage to his attire. After that, she had just let them do their thing. She had to admit that the look worked for him.

“Hi. I missed you this morning.” He smiled adoringly at her, resting his right hand on hers where she’d hooked it through his elbow. “You look absolutely stunning,” he added quickly before Kingsley began to speak.   

“Well, this seems vaguely familiar...” the black wizard said, scratching his head in mock confusion. He waited for a smattering of polite laughter to die down before saying, “In all seriousness, though, two years ago, when Hermione and Draco first stood before me in front of a much smaller and more uncomfortable audience...” this time he had to wait for the loud hoots and yells from the redheaded portion of the crowd to quiet down. Once they had settled down (with a little help from Molly), he continued. “Anyway, two years ago, I honestly didn’t expect these two to survive a week, let alone be standing here now, ready to renew their vows in earnest.” He smiled at each of them in turn. “I know you all know how these two originally got together. It was all over the front page... By the way, if anyone sees a suspicious looking green beetle, feel free to stomp on it...” Another wave of laughter made him pause for a moment. “No...seriously. The Aurors will look the other way.” Kingsley winked at Hermione, then went on. “So...a bright young Wizengamot member thought that she had come up with the perfect way to ‘punish’ Draco for crimes everyone knows he committed under duress.” There were a few grumbles in the audience, but they all seemed to be in Draco’s favor. “Apparently the best way to punish a man is to force him to marry a woman who is his perfect match in every way shape and form. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Hilda Marlow might have a promising career ahead of her if she ever decides to start, what do muggles call it? A dating service?”

Hermione, Harry, Dean and a couple of other muggleborns and half-bloods all nodded in the affirmative. HIlda, who was seated near the front on Draco’s side of the assembly laughed and shook her head, blushing. “I just got lucky! Or I should say they did...” she amended, winking at Draco.

“Very lucky,” he shot back, squeezing Hermione’s hand.

Once all the ‘Awwwwwws’ from the female guests (and a few of the males) died down, Kingsley said, “Either way, it’s quite obvious that her idea paid off. And not only did it work out well for Draco himself, but I’m happy to announce that, due to the ridiculousness of the whole thing, late yesterday afternoon, the Wizengamot finally signed into law an appeals process for all wizards and witches found guilty of any crime. So, we should never again have to put anyone through the cruel and unusual punishment of being married to the love of their life.” He paused, and there were a few uncomfortable chuckles. “By the way, Draco, did you want to file an appeal?” Kingsley asked, gazing at him solemnly.

Draco snorted and wrapped his arm around Hermione’s waist. “Not on your life.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to clear your name, dummy,” Hermione muttered affectionately, elbowing him in the side.

“Oh...right...” Draco blinked, then frowned thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good. See me after class,” Kingsley whispered in a loud aside, winking. “Now that I’ve expressed my thorough shock and disbelief that we’re all here, let’s move on.” Grinning at Hermione and Draco, he said “I won’t keep it as short this time, but it’ll be a whole lot sweeter.” Facing the gathering, he raised his voice, “We are gathered here today to witness the joining of two people who started out in life as differently as two people possibly could. Hermione was raised in the muggle world, by parents who hadn’t the slightest inkling that our world even existed. I’m sure that receiving her Hogwarts letter was the biggest shock of all of their lives, but to say that she has fully embraced her new life would be a massive understatement. She has grown from...I’m told...a rather awkward child, who knew literally nothing about magic, into one of the most powerful, intelligent and brave witches our world has ever seen.”

Hermione blushed, mumbling, “What’s this got to do with anything?” as several people clapped.

“You forgot beautiful,” Draco informed Kingsley, without a trace of humor, then smiled warmly at Hermione.

Kingsley smiled. “And that brings us to Draco. Obviously we might not actually be here today if he’d had a...more optimal beginning. Yes, he comes from not one, but two of the wealthiest pureblood families, and grew up with the finest of everything. But not everything is always as it seems from the outside, and I think we can all agree that growing up literally in the shadow of one of the most evil men the world has ever known certainly had a less than stellar effect on Draco. Those who knew him in school can attest to the fact that he was once one of the most spoiled, arrogant, selfish and just plain hate-filled little bastards you could hope to never meet...”

Hermione felt Draco going very still beside her, and scowled at Kingsley. He just gave her a half smile as if to say, “Bear with me.”

“Throughout his school years, Draco invested a lot of time and energy into making others miserable. Ironically, most of his efforts were focussed on his lovely wife here.” He gestured at Hermione. “And his best man...” Here he gestured at Harry, who Hermione noticed was also frowning darkly. Even Ron was staring at Kingsley like he’d lost his mind. “Draco was not a nice guy. But, when it came down to it...when he was ordered to kill Albus Dumbledore or his own mother would be killed...he did the right thing. He lowered his wand, and I think he was ready to try to work out a deal with Dumbledore to try to protect his mother.” Kingsley paused and glanced at Draco, raising an eyebrow.

Draco nodded slightly, looking very uncomfortable. Hermione turned toward him and kissed his cheek, and he shot her a grateful smile.

"Draco Malfoy represented everything that was wrong with You-know...with Voldemort’s mission. He was the ultimate rich, spoiled, muggle hating pureblood. And a lot of people had decided that there was no hope for someone like him. No hope that our society would ever transcend the huge divide between those who accept the fact that muggle borns can be just as powerful a witch or wizard as a pureblood, in some cases even more so.” Kingsley smiled at Hermione, but she was too busy restraining herself from hexing him to smile back. Extending his hand toward Draco (who shrank back slightly), the Minister said, “The Draco Malfoy you see here today proves that there is hope for us all. In just two years, he’s turned his life around completely. You may have heard he’s studying to become an animal healer...”

At this, Hagrid laughingly called out, “Never thought I’d see the day!”

Draco winced. “I’m really sorry about...”

“You gotta stop saying that every time we meet, lad,” Hagrid said, shaking his head firmly.

“Right. Where was I? Oh, he’s got Ronald Weasley as a groomsman at his wedding. Never thought I’d see a Weasley and a Malfoy stand that close without fighting...”

“There’s still time,” Ron mumbled, and playfully reached around Harry to poke Draco in the arm. Ron was in the wedding because Hermione had really wanted both Ginny and Luna as bridesmaids, but Blaise was stuck in Italy on a business trip that he hadn’t been able to get out of. But, Ron and Draco did get along well enough that he’d readily agreed when Draco asked him to stand for him.

“Of course, it’s also telling that Harry here is his best man,” Kingsley flicked his hand dismissively at Harry, and turned to Hermione, earning a few chuckles. “But I think the greatest indicator of how much Draco has grown over the last few years is the fact that he has managed to win the love of a woman who I’m told once punched him for being a ‘foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach.’” He grinned at Hermione, who covered her mouth to smother her guilty laughter. “And he quite clearly adores her in return...”

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Draco said, nodding vigorously. Several women “Awwww”d again.

“Ditto,” Hermione murmured, stretching up on her toes and kissing him.

“Let me finish this thing,” Kingsley muttered flatly, receiving another smattering of laughter.

“Last, but not least; together, they have created what I think we can all agree is one of the most precocious children the Wizarding World has ever seen. Can anyone here recall a more...creative method of scattering flower petals?”

Everyone chuckled, and Hermione turned to her daughter, who (in a rare display of shyness) was peering out at everyone from behind Luna’s skirt. “What did she do?” She asked suspiciously.

“I’ll tell you later,” Draco laughed, winking at Lyra, who immediately shrank back, completely disappearing from view behind the blonde witch’s full skirt, to another loud burst of laughter.

Kingsley waited it out for a moment or two, then cleared his throat. His face grew more serious and Hermione turned back to Draco, who was now facing her. He took both of her hands in his and started stroking the backs of them with his thumbs.  “Well, since we don’t really need to perform the usual binding spells and such, and I think I’ve talked your ears off long enough, it’s time for Draco and Hermione to recite the vows they’ve written for the occasion,” Kingsley announced. “Draco, do you have something you want to say to your lovely wife?”

“I do...Sir,” Draco said, smirking. Everyone who had been present at their first wedding laughed, leaving the majority of the gathering looking rather confused. Clearing his throat, Draco squeezed Hermione’s hands and shot her a nervous smile. Knowing how much he hated being the center of attention, especially after the impromptu roast Kingsley had just subjected him to, she smiled reassuringly and squeezed back. “Two years ago, I thought that my life...if you could even call it that...was over. And I thought that I was okay with that...I couldn’t imagine anything worth living for at that point. I’d accepted my fate, and I was ready to die.” Hermione’s eyes welled with tears, remembering how dispirited he had been after his verdict and initial sentence had been read. Draco let go of her hands and gently cupped her cheeks, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “Then, something happened that I definitely never expected. Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, the last person on earth I thought would want anything to do with me stepped in and, well...you didn’t just save my life, you gave me a new one. I think I said the first time around that life might test us?” Hermione nodded slightly. “I wasn’t wrong...” he trailed off, grinning ruefully. Hermione smirked and surreptitiously tickled his side, out of view of their guests. “...but what I didn’t realize back then was how much it was going to give me in return. Friends I never would have asked for...” he turned around and stuck his tongue out at Ron. “Family I didn’t know I had.” He nodded at Harry, who reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “And the most impressive petal-spitter I have ever seen. Well...okay, so she’s the only one...”

“Tell me she didn’t...” Hermione gasped, leaning far to her left so she could scowl at Lyra, who was now trying to crawl under Luna’s robes.

Draco laughed, as did several others. “She did. Maybe we should reconsider trying to have another one?" He joked. Hermione rolled her eyes dismissively, knowing he was just as eager for another baby as she was. They hadn't had any luck yet, but they'd only been casually trying for the last couple of months because of she didn't want to have morning sickness for their renewal ceremony.

“Good thing the flowers you used weren’t poisonous,” Madam Sprout called out loudly from somewhere near the back of the crowd. Neville nodded slightly in agreement.

“Thank Merlin for small favors...” Hermione muttered. Turning back to Lyra, she warned, “We’re going to have a little talk later, Miss.”

“Anyway...” Draco tugged on Hermione’s hands to regain her attention. “I also said that I hoped we could become friends, and luckily for me, I got more than I expected on that count, too.” He leaned forward a bit, smiling fondly as he said, “You are the best friend I have ever had. I always knew you were smart, but I never realized how completely amazing you are. You’re not just the bossy, know-it-all good two shoes I always thought you were. Not very many people would make a sacrifice like you did for me...not even for a complete stranger, let alone someone that made your life miserable like I did.” He smiled apologetically and caressed her cheek. “You didn’t have to do that, but I’m so glad you did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gotten to know what a sweet, loyal, kind, funny, and incredibly sexy woman you really are.” Hermione blushed, and he wriggled his eyebrows playfully. “So, what I really want to say is thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on me. Thank you for our beautiful daughter, and for giving me a chance to be a better person. Thank you for agreeing, again,  to spend the rest of your life with me. Just...thank you.” His voice was filled with emotion, and he smiled tearfully as he ducked down to brush his lips against hers. He started to pull away almost immediately, probably due to the fact that they weren’t alone.  Overcome by his words, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down for a long, tender kiss.

“Hey, it’s not time for that yet!” Kingsley murmured loudly enough for almost everyone to hear.

Blushing slightly, Hermione gently pushed on Draco’s shoulders until he took a step back. “Sorry,” she mumbled, grinning sheepishly at their guests. Turning back to Draco, she licked her lips nervously. “So, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I wanted to say to you. I thought I knew what I was going to say, but listening to you just now made me realize something. When we first got married, I just spouted some things I remembered from when I was helping my cousin write hers...”

“I knew that sounded a little too rehearsed...” Draco teased. “I thought maybe you were one of those girls that had every detail of your wedding planned from the time you were twelve.”

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? I didn’t even plan this one. Anyway...I realized just now that everything I said to you two years ago, while I sort of meant it, was mostly about things that I could do for you, not about what I hoped for us, or things we might do together...” She bit her lip. “I have to confess that I was pretty sure I was going to be the only one to make an effort. That I’d have to, I don’t know, hold everything together somehow.”

Draco frowned slightly, but just nodded for her to continue.

“I realize now that I completely underestimated you.  I’m so sorry for that, Draco. Even very early on, despite our really awful history together, you did your best to try to make me comfortable here at Rosier Court. You’ve gotten to know my friends, even when it meant overcoming years of hostility between your families. You’ve supported my continuing education, despite coming from a family that would traditionally have dictated that you do the exact opposite. You’ve overcome far more obstacles than most people realize to become this truly amazing person you are today. You’re a terrific father, and the most kind, generous and loving husband I could possibly imagine.” He smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. Hermione grinned playfully, and said in a stage whisper, “And you have a fabulous arse.” Everyone within earshot burst out laughing, leaving those toward the back of the crowd looking confused and asking what she’d said. When they’d all settled down, Hermione said. “My point is, just about everything I promised you back then, you’ve given to me, without hesitation. I want you, and everyone else here, to know that I love you, and I consider myself truly, honored and fortunate to be your wife. I can’t wait to see what else life has in store for us.”

Draco’s eyes looked suspiciously moist as he ducked down to hug her tightly. He buried his face against the side of her neck for several seconds, and Hermione could hear him sucking in deep breaths in an attempt to control his emotions. “I love you,” he whispered finally. Just then, something slammed into Hermione’s legs, almost knocking them both over.

“Up! Up! Hug!” Lyra demanded impatiently, raising her arms.

“Okay, mood breaker,” Draco joked quietly, picking her up and propping her on his hip while still keeping one arm around Hermione.

She immediately wrapped her arms around both their necks and gave them each a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. “Wuv you, Mummy! Wuv you Daddy!” she exclaimed loudly, sparking another round of “Awwws.”

Kingsley chuckled. “On that note, Draco and Hermione, I’m very happy to say that you are still husband and wife, and now you may kiss.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but leaned in to kiss Hermione despite Lyra’s immediate protests over being, “Squisheded.” Everyone stood up and cheered; several guests with tears in their eyes.

“And now for the part they missed the first time around...let’s feast!” Kingsley bellowed, clapping his hands together. “If you could all make your way over to the canopy...” he requested, gesturing at the large white tent the elves had set up in one corner of the lawn. The wedding party held back to allow the guests to clear out. The yard was crammed to capacity. “Do we even know half of these people?” Hermione murmured, leaning into Draco’s side as they watched Narcissa, Molly, Arthur, Charlie and Bill try to herd everyone into the tent, which, fortunately was much larger on the inside. Wizarding space was a wonderful thing.

“Not even that many, I think,” Draco chuckled, kissing her cheek. “You look amazing...did I mention that?”

“You might have,” Hermione murmured, wincing as an elderly wizard casually strolled through Narcissa’s favorite flowerbed. “That’ll teach her to subject us to this sort of torture.”

Draco laughed. “I think it’s a price she was more than willing to pay. You know she felt bad that hardly anyone showed up for our first reception. And at least the hard part’s over with.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that the Wizengamot didn’t realize that the best punishment for you would have been to just send you on a public speaking tour to lecture on the error of your ways...” Hermione said, grinning mischievously when he shuddered.

“That’s not even funny,” he complained. “I’ll take the punishment I got, thank you, very much.” He squeezed her affectionately, and kissed the top of her head, then Lyra’s.

Hermione smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Harry was never awarded the Order of Merlin, but come on, he totally should have been!
> 
> So, I've mentioned that I'm working on a companion piece to this story, which tells Harry and Luna's story, but unfortunately I'm a little bit blocked on it. In the meantime, I'm posting two of my other almost-finished stories. I was only going to post one, but I couldn't decide. One is called "Hopeless? Never?" It's another Draco/Hermione story...sort of. (It takes a really long time to get to that point). It has a lot about continued prejudice against muggles and muggleborns, and once again, Draco has a serious health problem to overcome. (My muse just likes to pick on him, I swear). The other is a Cedric/Hermione story called "Come Back to Me," in which Cedric does not die, because killing him is one thing I may never forgive JK Rowling for. He and Hermione meet when she first arrives at Hogwarts, and become friends. It is kind of fluffy at times, but it deals with some pretty serious issues like cancer, a parent's death, and really severe depression. But Cedric. Doesn't. Die. ;-) 
> 
> Oh, I've been slowly posting a story called "Consequences," too, but it's dark, evil and depressing, and no one should ever read it. My muse is just a b**** sometimes...she went on strike a while back and refused to do anything else unless I wrote it, and I'm only posting it in hopes that it will make her cooperate again now. (I'm not kidding).

**Author's Note:**

> It goes without saying, but I don't own them, I'm just borrowing them for a while!!!


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